It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theatre.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Shakespeare texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
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If she in chains of magic were not bound,
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blood
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Hamlet
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Macbeth
, set primarily in Scotland, mixes witchcraft, prophecy, and murder. Three “Weïrd Sisters” appear to Macbeth and his comrade Banquo after a battle and prophesy that Macbeth will be king and that the descendants of Banquo will also reign. When Macbeth arrives at his castle, he and Lady Macbeth plot to assassinate King Duncan, soon to be their guest, so that Macbeth can become king.
After Macbeth murders Duncan, the king’s two sons flee, and Macbeth is crowned. Fearing that Banquo’s descendants will, according to the Weïrd Sisters’ predictions, take over the kingdom, Macbeth has Banquo killed. At a royal banquet that evening, Macbeth sees Banquo’s ghost appear covered in blood. Macbeth determines to consult the Weïrd Sisters again. They comfort him with ambiguous promises.
Another nobleman, Macduff, rides to England to join Duncan’s older son, Malcolm. Macbeth has Macduff’s wife and children murdered. Malcolm and Macduff lead an army against Macbeth, as Lady Macbeth goes mad and commits suicide.
Macbeth confronts Malcolm’s army, trusting in the Weïrd Sisters’ comforting promises. He learns that the promises are tricks, but continues to fight. Macduff kills Macbeth and Malcolm becomes Scotland’s king.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Thunder
and
Lightning
.
Enter
three
Witches
.
When
shall
we
three
meet
again
?
In
thunder
,
lightning
,
or
in
rain
?
When
the
hurly-burly’s
done
,
When
the
battle’s
lost
and
won
.
That
will
be
ere
the
set
of
sun
.
Where
the
place
?
Upon
the
heath
.
There
to
meet
with
Macbeth
.
I
come
,
Graymalkin
.
Paddock
calls
.
Anon
.
Fair
is
foul
,
and
foul
is
fair
;
,
Hover
through
the
fog
and
filthy
air
.
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Scene
2
Alarum
within
.
Enter
King
Duncan
,
Malcolm
,
Donalbain
,
Lennox
,
with
Attendants
,
meeting
a
bleeding
Captain
.
What
bloody
man
is
that
?
He
can
report
,
As
seemeth
by
his
plight
,
of
the
revolt
The
newest
state
.
This
is
the
sergeant
Who
,
like
a
good
and
hardy
soldier
,
fought
’Gainst
my
captivity
.
—
Hail
,
brave
friend
!
Say
to
the
King
the
knowledge
of
the
broil
As
thou
didst
leave
it
.
Doubtful
it
stood
,
As
two
spent
swimmers
that
do
cling
together
And
choke
their
art
.
The
merciless
Macdonwald
(
Worthy
to
be
a
rebel
,
for
to
that
The
multiplying
villainies
of
nature
Do
swarm
upon
him
)
from
the
Western
Isles
Of
kerns
and
gallowglasses
is
supplied
;
And
Fortune
,
on
his
damnèd
quarrel
smiling
,
Showed
like
a
rebel’s
whore
.
But
all’s
too
weak
;
For
brave
Macbeth
(
well
he
deserves
that
name
)
,
Disdaining
Fortune
,
with
his
brandished
steel
,
Which
smoked
with
bloody
execution
,
Like
Valor’s
valor’s
minion
,
carved
out
his
passage
Till
he
faced
the
slave
;
Which
ne’er
shook
hands
,
nor
bade
farewell
to
him
,
Till
he
unseamed
him
from
the
nave
to
th’
chops
,
And
fixed
his
head
upon
our
battlements
.
O
valiant
cousin
,
worthy
gentleman
!
As
whence
the
sun
’gins
his
reflection
Shipwracking
storms
and
direful
thunders
break
,
ACT 1. SC. 2
So
from
that
spring
whence
comfort
seemed
to
come
Discomfort
swells
.
Mark
,
King
of
Scotland
,
mark
:
No
sooner
justice
had
,
with
valor
armed
,
Compelled
these
skipping
kerns
to
trust
their
heels
,
But
the
Norweyan
lord
,
surveying
vantage
,
With
furbished
arms
and
new
supplies
of
men
,
Began
a
fresh
assault
.
Dismayed
not
this
our
captains
,
Macbeth
and
Banquo
?
Yes
,
as
sparrows
eagles
,
or
the
hare
the
lion
.
If
I
say
sooth
,
I
must
report
they
were
As
cannons
overcharged
with
double
cracks
,
So
they
doubly
redoubled
strokes
upon
the
foe
.
Except
they
meant
to
bathe
in
reeking
wounds
Or
memorize
another
Golgotha
,
I
cannot
tell
—
But
I
am
faint
.
My
gashes
cry
for
help
.
So
well
thy
words
become
thee
as
thy
wounds
:
They
smack
of
honor
both
.
—
Go
,
get
him
surgeons
.
The
Captain
is
led
off
by
Attendants
.
Enter
Ross
and
Angus
.
Who
comes
here
?
The
worthy
Thane
of
Ross
.
What
a
haste
looks
through
his
eyes
!
So
should
he
look
that
seems
to
speak
things
strange
.
God
save
the
King
.
Whence
cam’st
thou
,
worthy
thane
?
From
Fife
,
great
king
,
Where
the
Norweyan
banners
flout
the
sky
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
fan
our
people
cold
.
Norway
himself
,
with
terrible
numbers
,
Assisted
by
that
most
disloyal
traitor
,
The
Thane
of
Cawdor
,
began
a
dismal
conflict
,
Till
that
Bellona’s
bridegroom
,
lapped
in
proof
,
Confronted
him
with
self-comparisons
,
Point
against
point
,
rebellious
arm
’gainst
arm
,
Curbing
his
lavish
spirit
.
And
to
conclude
,
The
victory
fell
on
us
.
Great
happiness
!
That
now
Sweno
,
The
Norways’
king
,
craves
composition
.
Nor
would
we
deign
him
burial
of
his
men
Till
he
disbursèd
at
Saint
Colme’s
Inch
Ten
thousand
dollars
to
our
general
use
.
No
more
that
Thane
of
Cawdor
shall
deceive
Our
bosom
interest
.
Go
,
pronounce
his
present
death
,
And
with
his
former
title
greet
Macbeth
.
I’ll
see
it
done
.
What
he
hath
lost
,
noble
Macbeth
hath
won
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Thunder
.
Enter
the
three
Witches
.
Where
hast
thou
been
,
sister
?
Killing
swine
.
Sister
,
where
thou
?
A
sailor’s
wife
had
chestnuts
in
her
lap
And
munched
and
munched
and
munched
.
Give
me
,
quoth
I
.
Aroint
thee
,
witch
,
the
rump-fed
runnion
cries
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Her
husband’s
to
Aleppo
gone
,
master
o’
th’
Tiger
;
But
in
a
sieve
I’ll
thither
sail
,
And
,
like
a
rat
without
a
tail
,
I’ll
do
,
I’ll
do
,
and
I’ll
do
.
I’ll
give
thee
a
wind
.
Th’
art
kind
.
And
I
another
.
I
myself
have
all
the
other
,
And
the
very
ports
they
blow
;
,
All
the
quarters
that
they
know
I’
th’
shipman’s
card
.
I’ll
drain
him
dry
as
hay
.
Sleep
shall
neither
night
nor
day
Hang
upon
his
penthouse
lid
.
He
shall
live
a
man
forbid
.
Weary
sev’nnights
,
nine
times
nine
,
Shall
he
dwindle
,
peak
,
and
pine
.
Though
his
bark
cannot
be
lost
,
Yet
it
shall
be
tempest-tossed
.
Look
what
I
have
.
Show
me
,
show
me
.
Here
I
have
a
pilot’s
thumb
,
Wracked
as
homeward
he
did
come
.
Drum
within
.
A
drum
,
a
drum
!
Macbeth
doth
come
.
,
dancing
in
a
circle
The
Weïrd
Sisters
,
hand
in
hand
,
Posters
of
the
sea
and
land
,
Thus
do
go
about
,
about
,
Thrice
to
thine
and
thrice
to
mine
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
thrice
again
,
to
make
up
nine
.
Peace
,
the
charm’s
wound
up
.
Enter
Macbeth
and
Banquo
.
So
foul
and
fair
a
day
I
have
not
seen
.
How
far
is
’t
called
to
Forres
?
—
What
are
these
,
So
withered
,
and
so
wild
in
their
attire
,
That
look
not
like
th’
inhabitants
o’
th’
Earth
earth
And
yet
are
on
’t
?
—
Live
you
?
Or
are
you
aught
That
man
may
question
?
You
seem
to
understand
me
By
each
at
once
her
choppy
finger
laying
Upon
her
skinny
lips
.
You
should
be
women
,
And
yet
your
beards
forbid
me
to
interpret
That
you
are
so
.
Speak
if
you
can
.
What
are
you
?
All
hail
,
Macbeth
!
Hail
to
thee
,
Thane
of
Glamis
!
All
hail
,
Macbeth
!
Hail
to
thee
,
Thane
of
Cawdor
!
All
hail
,
Macbeth
,
that
shalt
be
king
hereafter
!
Good
sir
,
why
do
you
start
and
seem
to
fear
Things
that
do
sound
so
fair
?
—
I’
th’
name
of
truth
,
Are
you
fantastical
,
or
that
indeed
Which
outwardly
you
show
?
My
noble
partner
You
greet
with
present
grace
and
great
prediction
Of
noble
having
and
of
royal
hope
,
That
he
seems
rapt
withal
.
To
me
you
speak
not
.
If
you
can
look
into
the
seeds
of
time
And
say
which
grain
will
grow
and
which
will
not
,
Speak
,
then
,
to
me
,
who
neither
beg
nor
fear
Your
favors
nor
your
hate
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Hail
!
Hail
!
Hail
!
Lesser
than
Macbeth
and
greater
.
Not
so
happy
,
yet
much
happier
.
Thou
shalt
get
kings
,
though
thou
be
none
.
So
all
hail
,
Macbeth
and
Banquo
!
Banquo
and
Macbeth
,
all
hail
!
Stay
,
you
imperfect
speakers
.
Tell
me
more
.
By
Sinel’s
death
I
know
I
am
Thane
of
Glamis
.
But
how
of
Cawdor
?
The
Thane
of
Cawdor
lives
A
prosperous
gentleman
,
and
to
be
king
Stands
not
within
the
prospect
of
belief
,
No
more
than
to
be
Cawdor
.
Say
from
whence
You
owe
this
strange
intelligence
or
why
Upon
this
blasted
heath
you
stop
our
way
With
such
prophetic
greeting
.
Speak
,
I
charge
you
.
Witches
vanish
.
The
earth
hath
bubbles
,
as
the
water
has
,
And
these
are
of
them
.
Whither
are
they
vanished
?
Into
the
air
,
and
what
seemed
corporal
melted
,
As
breath
into
the
wind
.
Would
they
had
stayed
!
Were
such
things
here
as
we
do
speak
about
?
Or
have
we
eaten
on
the
insane
root
That
takes
the
reason
prisoner
?
Your
children
shall
be
kings
.
You
shall
be
king
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
And
Thane
of
Cawdor
too
.
Went
it
not
so
?
To
th’
selfsame
tune
and
words
.
—
Who’s
here
?
Enter
Ross
and
Angus
.
The
King
hath
happily
received
,
Macbeth
,
The
news
of
thy
success
,
and
,
when
he
reads
Thy
personal
venture
in
the
rebels’
fight
,
His
wonders
and
his
praises
do
contend
Which
should
be
thine
or
his
.
Silenced
with
that
,
In
viewing
o’er
the
rest
o’
th’
selfsame
day
He
finds
thee
in
the
stout
Norweyan
ranks
,
Nothing
afeard
of
what
thyself
didst
make
,
Strange
images
of
death
.
As
thick
as
tale
Came
post
with
post
,
and
every
one
did
bear
Thy
praises
in
his
kingdom’s
great
defense
,
And
poured
them
down
before
him
.
We
are
sent
To
give
thee
from
our
royal
master
thanks
,
Only
to
herald
thee
into
his
sight
,
Not
pay
thee
.
And
for
an
earnest
of
a
greater
honor
,
He
bade
me
,
from
him
,
call
thee
Thane
of
Cawdor
,
In
which
addition
,
hail
,
most
worthy
thane
,
For
it
is
thine
.
What
,
can
the
devil
speak
true
?
The
Thane
of
Cawdor
lives
.
Why
do
you
dress
me
In
borrowed
robes
?
Who
was
the
Thane
lives
yet
,
But
under
heavy
judgment
bears
that
life
Which
he
deserves
to
lose
.
Whether
he
was
combined
ACT 1. SC. 3
With
those
of
Norway
,
or
did
line
the
rebel
With
hidden
help
and
vantage
,
or
that
with
both
He
labored
in
his
country’s
wrack
,
I
know
not
;
But
treasons
capital
,
confessed
and
proved
,
Have
overthrown
him
.
,
aside
Glamis
and
Thane
of
Cawdor
!
The
greatest
is
behind
.
To
Ross
and
Angus
.
Thanks
for
your
pains
.
Aside
to
Banquo
.
Do
you
not
hope
your
children
shall
be
kings
,
When
those
that
gave
the
Thane
of
Cawdor
to
me
Promised
no
less
to
them
?
That
,
trusted
home
,
Might
yet
enkindle
you
unto
the
crown
,
Besides
the
Thane
of
Cawdor
.
But
’tis
strange
.
And
oftentimes
,
to
win
us
to
our
harm
,
The
instruments
of
darkness
tell
us
truths
,
Win
us
with
honest
trifles
,
to
betray
’s
In
deepest
consequence
.
—
Cousins
,
a
word
,
I
pray
you
.
They
step
aside
.
,
aside
Two
truths
are
told
As
happy
prologues
to
the
swelling
act
Of
the
imperial
theme
.
—
I
thank
you
,
gentlemen
.
Aside
.
This
supernatural
soliciting
Cannot
be
ill
,
cannot
be
good
.
If
ill
,
Why
hath
it
given
me
earnest
of
success
Commencing
in
a
truth
?
I
am
Thane
of
Cawdor
.
If
good
,
why
do
I
yield
to
that
suggestion
Whose
horrid
image
doth
unfix
my
hair
And
make
my
seated
heart
knock
at
my
ribs
Against
the
use
of
nature
?
Present
fears
Are
less
than
horrible
imaginings
.
My
thought
,
whose
murder
yet
is
but
fantastical
,
Shakes
so
my
single
state
of
man
That
function
is
smothered
in
surmise
,
And
nothing
is
but
what
is
not
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Look
how
our
partner’s
rapt
.
,
aside
If
chance
will
have
me
king
,
why
,
chance
may
crown
me
Without
my
stir
.
New
honors
come
upon
him
,
Like
our
strange
garments
,
cleave
not
to
their
mold
But
with
the
aid
of
use
.
,
aside
Come
what
come
may
,
Time
and
the
hour
runs
through
the
roughest
day
.
Worthy
Macbeth
,
we
stay
upon
your
leisure
.
Give
me
your
favor
.
My
dull
brain
was
wrought
With
things
forgotten
.
Kind
gentlemen
,
your
pains
Are
registered
where
every
day
I
turn
The
leaf
to
read
them
.
Let
us
toward
the
King
.
Aside
to
Banquo
.
Think
upon
what
hath
chanced
,
and
at
more
time
,
The
interim
having
weighed
it
,
let
us
speak
Our
free
hearts
each
to
other
.
Very
gladly
.
Till
then
,
enough
.
—
Come
,
friends
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Flourish
.
Enter
King
Duncan
,
Lennox
,
Malcolm
,
Donalbain
,
and
Attendants
.
Is
execution
done
on
Cawdor
?
Are
not
Those
in
commission
yet
returned
?
My
liege
,
They
are
not
yet
come
back
.
But
I
have
spoke
With
one
that
saw
him
die
,
who
did
report
ACT 1. SC. 4
That
very
frankly
he
confessed
his
treasons
,
Implored
your
Highness’
pardon
,
and
set
forth
A
deep
repentance
.
Nothing
in
his
life
Became
him
like
the
leaving
it
.
He
died
As
one
that
had
been
studied
in
his
death
To
throw
away
the
dearest
thing
he
owed
As
’twere
a
careless
trifle
.
There’s
no
art
To
find
the
mind’s
construction
in
the
face
.
He
was
a
gentleman
on
whom
I
built
An
absolute
trust
.
Enter
Macbeth
,
Banquo
,
Ross
,
and
Angus
.
O
worthiest
cousin
,
The
sin
of
my
ingratitude
even
now
Was
heavy
on
me
.
Thou
art
so
far
before
That
swiftest
wing
of
recompense
is
slow
To
overtake
thee
.
Would
thou
hadst
less
deserved
,
That
the
proportion
both
of
thanks
and
payment
Might
have
been
mine
!
Only
I
have
left
to
say
,
More
is
thy
due
than
more
than
all
can
pay
.
The
service
and
the
loyalty
I
owe
In
doing
it
pays
itself
.
Your
Highness’
part
Is
to
receive
our
duties
,
and
our
duties
Are
to
your
throne
and
state
children
and
servants
,
Which
do
but
what
they
should
by
doing
everything
Safe
toward
your
love
and
honor
.
Welcome
hither
.
I
have
begun
to
plant
thee
and
will
labor
To
make
thee
full
of
growing
.
—
Noble
Banquo
,
That
hast
no
less
deserved
nor
must
be
known
No
less
to
have
done
so
,
let
me
enfold
thee
And
hold
thee
to
my
heart
.
There
,
if
I
grow
,
The
harvest
is
your
own
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
My
plenteous
joys
,
Wanton
in
fullness
,
seek
to
hide
themselves
In
drops
of
sorrow
.
—
Sons
,
kinsmen
,
thanes
,
And
you
whose
places
are
the
nearest
,
know
We
will
establish
our
estate
upon
Our
eldest
,
Malcolm
,
whom
we
name
hereafter
The
Prince
of
Cumberland
;
which
honor
must
Not
unaccompanied
invest
him
only
,
But
signs
of
nobleness
,
like
stars
,
shall
shine
On
all
deservers
.
—
From
hence
to
Inverness
And
bind
us
further
to
you
.
The
rest
is
labor
which
is
not
used
for
you
.
I’ll
be
myself
the
harbinger
and
make
joyful
The
hearing
of
my
wife
with
your
approach
.
So
humbly
take
my
leave
.
My
worthy
Cawdor
.
,
aside
The
Prince
of
Cumberland
!
That
is
a
step
On
which
I
must
fall
down
or
else
o’erleap
,
For
in
my
way
it
lies
.
Stars
,
hide
your
fires
;
Let
not
light
see
my
black
and
deep
desires
.
The
eye
wink
at
the
hand
,
yet
let
that
be
Which
the
eye
fears
,
when
it
is
done
,
to
see
.
He
exits
.
True
,
worthy
Banquo
.
He
is
full
so
valiant
,
And
in
his
commendations
I
am
fed
:
It
is
a
banquet
to
me
.
—
Let’s
after
him
,
Whose
care
is
gone
before
to
bid
us
welcome
.
It
is
a
peerless
kinsman
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
Scene
5
Enter
Macbeth’s
Wife
,
alone
,
with
a
letter
.
,
reading
the
letter
They
met
me
in
the
day
of
success
,
and
I
have
learned
by
the
perfect’st
report
they
have
more
in
them
than
mortal
knowledge
.
When
I
burned
in
desire
to
question
them
further
,
they
made
themselves
air
,
into
which
they
vanished
.
Whiles
I
stood
rapt
in
the
wonder
of
it
came
missives
from
the
King
,
who
all-hailed
me
Thane
of
Cawdor
,
by
which
title
,
before
,
these
Weïrd
Sisters
saluted
me
and
referred
me
to
the
coming
on
of
time
with
Hail
,
king
that
shalt
be
.
This
have
I
thought
good
to
deliver
thee
,
my
dearest
partner
of
greatness
,
that
thou
might’st
not
lose
the
dues
of
rejoicing
by
being
ignorant
of
what
greatness
is
promised
thee
.
Lay
it
to
thy
heart
,
and
farewell
.
Glamis
thou
art
,
and
Cawdor
,
and
shalt
be
What
thou
art
promised
.
Yet
do
I
fear
thy
nature
;
It
is
too
full
o’
th’
milk
of
human
kindness
To
catch
the
nearest
way
.
Thou
wouldst
be
great
,
Art
not
without
ambition
,
but
without
The
illness
should
attend
it
.
What
thou
wouldst
highly
,
That
wouldst
thou
holily
;
wouldst
not
play
false
And
yet
wouldst
wrongly
win
.
Thou
’dst
’d’st
have
,
great
Glamis
,
That
which
cries
Thus
thou
must
do
,
if
thou
have
it
,
And
that
which
rather
thou
dost
fear
to
do
,
Than
wishest
should
be
undone
.
Hie
thee
hither
,
That
I
may
pour
my
spirits
in
thine
ear
And
chastise
with
the
valor
of
my
tongue
All
that
impedes
thee
from
the
golden
round
,
Which
fate
and
metaphysical
aid
doth
seem
To
have
thee
crowned
withal
.
ACT 1. SC. 5
Enter
Messenger
.
What
is
your
tidings
?
The
King
comes
here
tonight
.
Thou
’rt
mad
to
say
it
.
Is
not
thy
master
with
him
,
who
,
were
’t
so
,
Would
have
informed
for
preparation
?
So
please
you
,
it
is
true
.
Our
thane
is
coming
.
One
of
my
fellows
had
the
speed
of
him
,
Who
,
almost
dead
for
breath
,
had
scarcely
more
Than
would
make
up
his
message
.
Give
him
tending
.
He
brings
great
news
.
Messenger
exits
.
The
raven
himself
is
hoarse
That
croaks
the
fatal
entrance
of
Duncan
Under
my
battlements
.
Come
,
you
spirits
That
tend
on
mortal
thoughts
,
unsex
me
here
,
And
fill
me
from
the
crown
to
the
toe
top-full
Of
direst
cruelty
.
Make
thick
my
blood
.
Stop
up
th’
access
and
passage
to
remorse
,
That
no
compunctious
visitings
of
nature
Shake
my
fell
purpose
,
nor
keep
peace
between
Th’
effect
and
it
.
Come
to
my
woman’s
breasts
And
take
my
milk
for
gall
,
you
murd’ring
ministers
,
Wherever
in
your
sightless
substances
You
wait
on
nature’s
mischief
.
Come
,
thick
night
,
And
pall
thee
in
the
dunnest
smoke
of
hell
,
That
my
keen
knife
see
not
the
wound
it
makes
,
Nor
heaven
peep
through
the
blanket
of
the
dark
To
cry
Hold
,
hold
!
Enter
Macbeth
.
Great
Glamis
,
worthy
Cawdor
,
Greater
than
both
by
the
all-hail
hereafter
!
ACT 1. SC. 6
Thy
letters
have
transported
me
beyond
This
ignorant
present
,
and
I
feel
now
The
future
in
the
instant
.
My
dearest
love
,
Duncan
comes
here
tonight
.
And
when
goes
hence
?
Tomorrow
,
as
he
purposes
.
O
,
never
Shall
sun
that
morrow
see
!
Your
face
,
my
thane
,
is
as
a
book
where
men
May
read
strange
matters
.
To
beguile
the
time
,
Look
like
the
time
.
Bear
welcome
in
your
eye
,
Your
hand
,
your
tongue
.
Look
like
th’
innocent
flower
,
But
be
the
serpent
under
’t
.
He
that’s
coming
Must
be
provided
for
;
and
you
shall
put
This
night’s
great
business
into
my
dispatch
,
Which
shall
to
all
our
nights
and
days
to
come
Give
solely
sovereign
sway
and
masterdom
.
We
will
speak
further
.
Only
look
up
clear
.
To
alter
favor
ever
is
to
fear
.
Leave
all
the
rest
to
me
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Hautboys
and
Torches
.
Enter
King
Duncan
,
Malcolm
,
Donalbain
,
Banquo
,
Lennox
,
Macduff
,
Ross
,
Angus
,
and
Attendants
.
This
castle
hath
a
pleasant
seat
.
The
air
Nimbly
and
sweetly
recommends
itself
Unto
our
gentle
senses
.
ACT 1. SC. 6
This
guest
of
summer
,
The
temple-haunting
martlet
,
does
approve
,
By
his
loved
mansionry
,
that
the
heaven’s
breath
Smells
wooingly
here
.
No
jutty
,
frieze
,
Buttress
,
nor
coign
of
vantage
,
but
this
bird
Hath
made
his
pendant
bed
and
procreant
cradle
.
Where
they
most
breed
and
haunt
,
I
have
observed
,
The
air
is
delicate
.
Enter
Lady
Macbeth
.
See
,
see
our
honored
hostess
!
—
The
love
that
follows
us
sometime
is
our
trouble
,
Which
still
we
thank
as
love
.
Herein
I
teach
you
How
you
shall
bid
God
’ild
us
for
your
pains
And
thank
us
for
your
trouble
.
All
our
service
,
In
every
point
twice
done
and
then
done
double
,
Were
poor
and
single
business
to
contend
Against
those
honors
deep
and
broad
wherewith
Your
Majesty
loads
our
house
.
For
those
of
old
,
And
the
late
dignities
heaped
up
to
them
,
We
rest
your
hermits
.
Where’s
the
Thane
of
Cawdor
?
We
coursed
him
at
the
heels
and
had
a
purpose
To
be
his
purveyor
;
but
he
rides
well
,
And
his
great
love
,
(
sharp
as
his
spur
,
)
hath
helped
him
To
his
home
before
us
.
Fair
and
noble
hostess
,
We
are
your
guest
tonight
.
Your
servants
ever
Have
theirs
,
themselves
,
and
what
is
theirs
in
compt
To
make
their
audit
at
your
Highness’
pleasure
,
Still
to
return
your
own
.
Give
me
your
hand
.
ACT 1. SC. 7
Taking
her
hand
.
Conduct
me
to
mine
host
.
We
love
him
highly
And
shall
continue
our
graces
towards
him
.
By
your
leave
,
hostess
.
They
exit
.
Scene
7
Hautboys
.
Torches
.
Enter
a
Sewer
and
divers
Servants
with
dishes
and
service
over
the
stage
.
Then
enter
Macbeth
.
If
it
were
done
when
’tis
done
,
then
’twere
well
It
were
done
quickly
.
If
th’
assassination
Could
trammel
up
the
consequence
and
catch
With
his
surcease
success
,
that
but
this
blow
Might
be
the
be-all
and
the
end-all
here
,
But
here
,
upon
this
bank
and
shoal
of
time
,
We’d
jump
the
life
to
come
.
But
in
these
cases
We
still
have
judgment
here
,
that
we
but
teach
Bloody
instructions
,
which
,
being
taught
,
return
To
plague
th’
inventor
.
This
even-handed
justice
Commends
th’
ingredience
of
our
poisoned
chalice
To
our
own
lips
.
He’s
here
in
double
trust
:
First
,
as
I
am
his
kinsman
and
his
subject
,
Strong
both
against
the
deed
;
then
,
as
his
host
,
Who
should
against
his
murderer
shut
the
door
,
Not
bear
the
knife
myself
.
Besides
,
this
Duncan
Hath
borne
his
faculties
so
meek
,
hath
been
So
clear
in
his
great
office
,
that
his
virtues
Will
plead
like
angels
,
trumpet-tongued
,
against
The
deep
damnation
of
his
taking-off
;
And
pity
,
like
a
naked
newborn
babe
Striding
the
blast
,
or
heaven’s
cherubin
horsed
ACT 1. SC. 7
Upon
the
sightless
couriers
of
the
air
,
Shall
blow
the
horrid
deed
in
every
eye
,
That
tears
shall
drown
the
wind
.
I
have
no
spur
To
prick
the
sides
of
my
intent
,
but
only
Vaulting
ambition
,
which
o’erleaps
itself
And
falls
on
th’
other
—
Enter
Lady
Macbeth
.
How
now
,
what
news
?
He
has
almost
supped
.
Why
have
you
left
the
chamber
?
Hath
he
asked
for
me
?
Know
you
not
he
has
?
We
will
proceed
no
further
in
this
business
.
He
hath
honored
me
of
late
,
and
I
have
bought
Golden
opinions
from
all
sorts
of
people
,
Which
would
be
worn
now
in
their
newest
gloss
,
Not
cast
aside
so
soon
.
Was
the
hope
drunk
Wherein
you
dressed
yourself
?
Hath
it
slept
since
?
And
wakes
it
now
,
to
look
so
green
and
pale
At
what
it
did
so
freely
?
From
this
time
Such
I
account
thy
love
.
Art
thou
afeard
To
be
the
same
in
thine
own
act
and
valor
As
thou
art
in
desire
?
Wouldst
thou
have
that
Which
thou
esteem’st
the
ornament
of
life
And
live
a
coward
in
thine
own
esteem
,
Letting
I
dare
not
wait
upon
I
would
,
Like
the
poor
cat
i’
th’
adage
?
Prithee
,
peace
.
I
dare
do
all
that
may
become
a
man
.
Who
dares
do
more
is
none
.
ACT 1. SC. 7
What
beast
was
’t
,
then
,
That
made
you
break
this
enterprise
to
me
?
When
you
durst
do
it
,
then
you
were
a
man
;
And
to
be
more
than
what
you
were
,
you
would
Be
so
much
more
the
man
.
Nor
time
nor
place
Did
then
adhere
,
and
yet
you
would
make
both
.
They
have
made
themselves
,
and
that
their
fitness
now
Does
unmake
you
.
I
have
given
suck
,
and
know
How
tender
’tis
to
love
the
babe
that
milks
me
.
I
would
,
while
it
was
smiling
in
my
face
,
Have
plucked
my
nipple
from
his
boneless
gums
And
dashed
the
brains
out
,
had
I
so
sworn
as
you
Have
done
to
this
.
If
we
should
fail
—
We
fail
?
But
screw
your
courage
to
the
sticking
place
And
we’ll
not
fail
.
When
Duncan
is
asleep
(
Whereto
the
rather
shall
his
day’s
hard
journey
Soundly
invite
him
)
,
his
two
chamberlains
Will
I
with
wine
and
wassail
so
convince
That
memory
,
the
warder
of
the
brain
,
Shall
be
a
fume
,
and
the
receipt
of
reason
A
limbeck
only
.
When
in
swinish
sleep
Their
drenchèd
natures
lies
as
in
a
death
,
What
cannot
you
and
I
perform
upon
Th’
unguarded
Duncan
?
What
not
put
upon
His
spongy
officers
,
who
shall
bear
the
guilt
Of
our
great
quell
?
Bring
forth
men-children
only
,
For
thy
undaunted
mettle
should
compose
Nothing
but
males
.
Will
it
not
be
received
,
When
we
have
marked
with
blood
those
sleepy
two
Of
his
own
chamber
and
used
their
very
daggers
,
That
they
have
done
’t
?
ACT 1. SC. 7
Who
dares
receive
it
other
,
As
we
shall
make
our
griefs
and
clamor
roar
Upon
his
death
?
I
am
settled
and
bend
up
Each
corporal
agent
to
this
terrible
feat
.
Away
,
and
mock
the
time
with
fairest
show
.
False
face
must
hide
what
the
false
heart
doth
know
.
They
exit
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
Banquo
,
and
Fleance
with
a
torch
before
him
.
How
goes
the
night
,
boy
?
The
moon
is
down
.
I
have
not
heard
the
clock
.
And
she
goes
down
at
twelve
.
I
take
’t
’tis
later
,
sir
.
Hold
,
take
my
sword
.
He
Giving
gives
his
sword
to
Fleance
.
There’s
husbandry
in
heaven
;
Their
candles
are
all
out
.
Take
thee
that
too
.
A
heavy
summons
lies
like
lead
upon
me
,
And
yet
I
would
not
sleep
.
Merciful
powers
,
Restrain
in
me
the
cursèd
thoughts
that
nature
Gives
way
to
in
repose
.
Enter
Macbeth
,
and
a
Servant
with
a
torch
.
Give
me
my
sword
.
—
Who’s
there
?
A
friend
.
What
,
sir
,
not
yet
at
rest
?
The
King’s
abed
.
He
hath
been
in
unusual
pleasure
,
and
Sent
forth
great
largess
to
your
offices
.
This
diamond
he
greets
your
wife
withal
,
ACT 2. SC. 1
By
the
name
of
most
kind
hostess
,
and
shut
up
In
measureless
content
.
He
gives
Macbeth
a
jewel
diamond
.
Being
unprepared
,
Our
will
became
the
servant
to
defect
,
Which
else
should
free
have
wrought
.
All’s
well
.
I
dreamt
last
night
of
the
three
Weïrd
Sisters
.
To
you
they
have
showed
some
truth
.
I
think
not
of
them
.
Yet
,
when
we
can
entreat
an
hour
to
serve
,
We
would
spend
it
in
some
words
upon
that
business
,
If
you
would
grant
the
time
.
At
your
kind’st
leisure
.
If
you
shall
cleave
to
my
consent
,
when
’tis
,
It
shall
make
honor
for
you
.
So
I
lose
none
In
seeking
to
augment
it
,
but
still
keep
My
bosom
franchised
and
allegiance
clear
,
I
shall
be
counseled
.
Good
repose
the
while
.
Thanks
,
sir
.
The
like
to
you
.
Banquo
and
Fleance
exit
.
Go
bid
thy
mistress
,
when
my
drink
is
ready
,
She
strike
upon
the
bell
.
Get
thee
to
bed
.
Servant
exits
.
Is
this
a
dagger
which
I
see
before
me
,
The
handle
toward
my
hand
?
Come
,
let
me
clutch
thee
.
I
have
thee
not
,
and
yet
I
see
thee
still
.
Art
thou
not
,
fatal
vision
,
sensible
To
feeling
as
to
sight
?
Or
art
thou
but
ACT 2. SC. 1
A
dagger
of
the
mind
,
a
false
creation
Proceeding
from
the
heat-oppressèd
brain
?
I
see
thee
yet
,
in
form
as
palpable
As
this
which
now
I
draw
.
He
draws
his
dagger
.
Thou
marshal’st
me
the
way
that
I
was
going
,
And
such
an
instrument
I
was
to
use
.
Mine
eyes
are
made
the
fools
o’
th’
other
senses
Or
else
worth
all
the
rest
.
I
see
thee
still
,
And
,
on
thy
blade
and
dudgeon
,
gouts
of
blood
,
Which
was
not
so
before
.
There’s
no
such
thing
.
It
is
the
bloody
business
which
informs
Thus
to
mine
eyes
.
Now
o’er
the
one-half
world
Nature
seems
dead
,
and
wicked
dreams
abuse
The
curtained
sleep
.
Witchcraft
celebrates
Pale
Hecate’s
off’rings
,
and
withered
murder
,
Alarumed
by
his
sentinel
,
the
wolf
,
Whose
howl’s
his
watch
,
thus
with
his
stealthy
pace
,
With
Tarquin’s
ravishing
strides
,
towards
his
design
Moves
like
a
ghost
.
Thou
sure
and
firm-set
earth
,
Hear
not
my
steps
,
which
way
they
walk
,
for
fear
Thy
very
stones
prate
of
my
whereabouts
And
take
the
present
horror
from
the
time
,
Which
now
suits
with
it
.
Whiles
I
threat
,
he
lives
.
Words
to
the
heat
of
deeds
too
cold
breath
gives
.
A
bell
rings
.
I
go
,
and
it
is
done
.
The
bell
invites
me
.
Hear
it
not
,
Duncan
,
for
it
is
a
knell
That
summons
thee
to
heaven
or
to
hell
.
He
exits
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Lady
Macbeth
.
That
which
hath
made
them
drunk
hath
made
me
bold
.
What
hath
quenched
them
hath
given
me
fire
.
Hark
!
—
Peace
.
It
was
the
owl
that
shrieked
,
the
fatal
bellman
,
Which
gives
the
stern’st
good-night
.
He
is
about
it
.
The
doors
are
open
,
and
the
surfeited
grooms
Do
mock
their
charge
with
snores
.
I
have
drugged
their
possets
,
That
death
and
nature
do
contend
about
them
Whether
they
live
or
die
.
,
within
Who’s
there
?
what
,
ho
!
Alack
,
I
am
afraid
they
have
awaked
,
And
’tis
not
done
.
Th’
attempt
and
not
the
deed
Confounds
us
.
Hark
!
—
I
laid
their
daggers
ready
;
He
could
not
miss
’em
.
Had
he
not
resembled
My
father
as
he
slept
,
I
had
done
’t
.
Enter
Macbeth
with
bloody
daggers
.
My
husband
?
I
have
done
the
deed
.
Didst
thou
not
hear
a
noise
?
I
heard
the
owl
scream
and
the
crickets
cry
.
Did
not
you
speak
?
When
?
Now
.
As
I
descended
?
Ay
.
Hark
!
—
Who
lies
i’
th’
second
chamber
?
Donalbain
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
This
is
a
sorry
sight
.
A
foolish
thought
,
to
say
a
sorry
sight
.
There’s
one
did
laugh
in
’s
sleep
,
and
one
cried
Murder
!
That
they
did
wake
each
other
.
I
stood
and
heard
them
.
But
they
did
say
their
prayers
and
addressed
them
Again
to
sleep
.
There
are
two
lodged
together
.
One
cried
God
bless
us
and
Amen
the
other
,
As
they
had
seen
me
with
these
hangman’s
hands
,
List’ning
their
fear
.
I
could
not
say
Amen
When
they
did
say
God
bless
us
.
Consider
it
not
so
deeply
.
But
wherefore
could
not
I
pronounce
Amen
?
I
had
most
need
of
blessing
,
and
Amen
Stuck
in
my
throat
.
These
deeds
must
not
be
thought
After
these
ways
;
so
,
it
will
make
us
mad
.
Methought
I
heard
a
voice
cry
Sleep
no
more
!
Macbeth
does
murder
sleep
—
the
innocent
sleep
,
Sleep
that
knits
up
the
raveled
sleave
of
care
,
The
death
of
each
day’s
life
,
sore
labor’s
bath
,
Balm
of
hurt
minds
,
great
nature’s
second
course
,
Chief
nourisher
in
life’s
feast
.
What
do
you
mean
?
Still
it
cried
Sleep
no
more
!
to
all
the
house
.
Glamis
hath
murdered
sleep
,
and
therefore
Cawdor
Shall
sleep
no
more
.
Macbeth
shall
sleep
no
more
.
ACT 2. SC. 2
Who
was
it
that
thus
cried
?
Why
,
worthy
thane
,
You
do
unbend
your
noble
strength
to
think
So
brainsickly
of
things
.
Go
get
some
water
And
wash
this
filthy
witness
from
your
hand
.
—
Why
did
you
bring
these
daggers
from
the
place
?
They
must
lie
there
.
Go
,
carry
them
and
smear
The
sleepy
grooms
with
blood
.
I’ll
go
no
more
.
I
am
afraid
to
think
what
I
have
done
.
Look
on
’t
again
I
dare
not
.
Infirm
of
purpose
!
Give
me
the
daggers
.
The
sleeping
and
the
dead
Are
but
as
pictures
.
’Tis
the
eye
of
childhood
That
fears
a
painted
devil
.
If
he
do
bleed
,
I’ll
gild
the
faces
of
the
grooms
withal
,
For
it
must
seem
their
guilt
.
She
exits
with
the
daggers
.
Knock
within
.
Whence
is
that
knocking
?
How
is
’t
with
me
when
every
noise
appalls
me
?
What
hands
are
here
!
Ha
,
they
pluck
out
mine
eyes
.
Will
all
great
Neptune’s
ocean
wash
this
blood
Clean
from
my
hand
?
No
,
this
my
hand
will
rather
The
multitudinous
seas
incarnadine
,
Making
the
green
one
red
.
Enter
Lady
Macbeth
.
My
hands
are
of
your
color
,
but
I
shame
To
wear
a
heart
so
white
.
Knock
.
I
hear
a
knocking
At
the
south
entry
.
Retire
we
to
our
chamber
.
A
little
water
clears
us
of
this
deed
.
How
easy
is
it
,
then
!
Your
constancy
Hath
left
you
unattended
.
Knock
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Hark
,
more
knocking
.
Get
on
your
nightgown
,
lest
occasion
call
us
And
show
us
to
be
watchers
.
Be
not
lost
So
poorly
in
your
thoughts
.
To
know
my
deed
’twere
best
not
know
myself
.
Knock
.
Wake
Duncan
with
thy
knocking
.
I
would
thou
couldst
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Knocking
within
.
Enter
a
Porter
.
Here’s
a
knocking
indeed
!
If
a
man
were
porter
of
hell
gate
,
he
should
have
old
turning
the
key
.
(
Knock
.
)
Knock
,
knock
,
knock
!
Who’s
there
,
i’
th’
name
of
Beelzebub
?
Here’s
a
farmer
that
hanged
himself
on
th’
expectation
of
plenty
.
Come
in
time
!
Have
napkins
enough
about
you
;
here
you’ll
sweat
for
’t
.
(
Knock
.
)
Knock
,
knock
!
Who’s
there
,
in
th’
other
devil’s
name
?
Faith
,
here’s
an
equivocator
that
could
swear
in
both
the
scales
against
either
scale
,
who
committed
treason
enough
for
God’s
sake
yet
could
not
equivocate
to
heaven
.
O
,
come
in
,
equivocator
.
(
Knock
.
)
Knock
,
knock
,
knock
!
Who’s
there
?
Faith
,
here’s
an
English
tailor
come
hither
for
stealing
out
of
a
French
hose
.
Come
in
,
tailor
.
Here
you
may
roast
your
goose
.
(
Knock
.
)
Knock
,
knock
!
Never
at
quiet
.
—
What
are
you
?
—
But
this
place
is
too
cold
for
hell
.
I’ll
devil-porter
it
no
further
.
I
had
thought
to
have
let
in
some
of
all
professions
that
go
the
primrose
way
to
th’
everlasting
bonfire
.
(
Knock
.
)
Anon
,
anon
!
The
Porter
opens
the
door
to
Macduff
and
Lennox
.
I
pray
you
,
remember
the
porter
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Was
it
so
late
,
friend
,
ere
you
went
to
bed
That
you
do
lie
so
late
?
Faith
,
sir
,
we
were
carousing
till
the
second
cock
,
and
drink
,
sir
,
is
a
great
provoker
of
three
things
.
What
three
things
does
drink
especially
provoke
?
Marry
,
sir
,
nose-painting
,
sleep
,
and
urine
.
Lechery
,
sir
,
it
provokes
and
unprovokes
.
It
provokes
the
desire
,
but
it
takes
away
the
performance
.
Therefore
much
drink
may
be
said
to
be
an
equivocator
with
lechery
.
It
makes
him
,
and
it
mars
him
;
it
sets
him
on
,
and
it
takes
him
off
;
it
persuades
him
and
disheartens
him
;
makes
him
stand
to
and
not
stand
to
;
in
conclusion
,
equivocates
him
in
a
sleep
and
,
giving
him
the
lie
,
leaves
him
.
I
believe
drink
gave
thee
the
lie
last
night
.
That
it
did
,
sir
,
i’
th’
very
throat
on
me
;
but
I
requited
him
for
his
lie
,
and
,
I
think
,
being
too
strong
for
him
,
though
he
took
up
my
legs
sometime
,
yet
I
made
a
shift
to
cast
him
.
Is
thy
master
stirring
?
Enter
Macbeth
.
Our
knocking
has
awaked
him
.
Here
he
comes
.
Porter
exits
.
Good
morrow
,
noble
sir
.
Good
morrow
,
both
.
Is
the
King
stirring
,
worthy
thane
?
Not
yet
.
He
did
command
me
to
call
timely
on
him
.
I
have
almost
slipped
the
hour
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
I’ll
bring
you
to
him
.
I
know
this
is
a
joyful
trouble
to
you
,
But
yet
’tis
one
.
The
labor
we
delight
in
physics
pain
.
This
is
the
door
.
I’ll
make
so
bold
to
call
,
For
’tis
my
limited
service
.
Macduff
exits
.
Goes
the
King
hence
today
?
He
does
.
He
did
appoint
so
.
The
night
has
been
unruly
.
Where
we
lay
,
Our
chimneys
were
blown
down
and
,
as
they
say
,
Lamentings
heard
i’
th’
air
,
strange
screams
of
death
,
And
prophesying
,
with
accents
terrible
,
Of
dire
combustion
and
confused
events
New
hatched
to
th’
woeful
time
.
The
obscure
bird
Clamored
the
livelong
night
.
Some
say
the
Earth
earth
Was
feverous
and
did
shake
.
’Twas
a
rough
night
.
My
young
remembrance
cannot
parallel
A
fellow
to
it
.
Enter
Macduff
.
O
horror
,
horror
,
horror
!
Tongue
nor
heart
cannot
conceive
nor
name
thee
!
What’s
the
matter
?
Confusion
now
hath
made
his
masterpiece
.
Most
sacrilegious
murder
hath
broke
ope
The
Lord’s
anointed
temple
and
stole
thence
The
life
o’
th’
building
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
What
is
’t
you
say
?
The
life
?
Mean
you
his
Majesty
?
Approach
the
chamber
and
destroy
your
sight
With
a
new
Gorgon
.
Do
not
bid
me
speak
.
See
and
then
speak
yourselves
.
Macbeth
and
Lennox
exit
.
Awake
,
awake
!
Ring
the
alarum
bell
.
—
Murder
and
treason
!
Banquo
and
Donalbain
,
Malcolm
,
awake
!
Shake
off
this
downy
sleep
,
death’s
counterfeit
,
And
look
on
death
itself
.
Up
,
up
,
and
see
The
great
doom’s
image
.
Malcolm
,
Banquo
,
As
from
your
graves
rise
up
and
walk
like
sprites
To
countenance
this
horror
.
—
Ring
the
bell
.
Bell
rings
.
Enter
Lady
Macbeth
.
What’s
the
business
,
That
such
a
hideous
trumpet
calls
to
parley
The
sleepers
of
the
house
?
Speak
,
speak
!
O
gentle
lady
,
’Tis
not
for
you
to
hear
what
I
can
speak
.
The
repetition
in
a
woman’s
ear
Would
murder
as
it
fell
.
Enter
Banquo
.
O
Banquo
,
Banquo
,
Our
royal
master’s
murdered
.
Woe
,
alas
!
What
,
in
our
house
?
Too
cruel
anywhere
.
—
Dear
Duff
,
I
prithee
,
contradict
thyself
And
say
it
is
not
so
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Enter
Macbeth
,
Lennox
,
and
Ross
.
Had
I
but
died
an
hour
before
this
chance
,
I
had
lived
a
blessèd
time
;
for
from
this
instant
There’s
nothing
serious
in
mortality
.
All
is
but
toys
.
Renown
and
grace
is
dead
.
The
wine
of
life
is
drawn
,
and
the
mere
lees
Is
left
this
vault
to
brag
of
.
Enter
Malcolm
and
Donalbain
.
What
is
amiss
?
You
are
,
and
do
not
know
’t
.
The
spring
,
the
head
,
the
fountain
of
your
blood
Is
stopped
;
the
very
source
of
it
is
stopped
.
Your
royal
father’s
murdered
.
O
,
by
whom
?
Those
of
his
chamber
,
as
it
seemed
,
had
done
’t
.
Their
hands
and
faces
were
all
badged
with
blood
.
So
were
their
daggers
,
which
unwiped
we
found
Upon
their
pillows
.
They
stared
and
were
distracted
.
No
man’s
life
was
to
be
trusted
with
them
.
O
,
yet
I
do
repent
me
of
my
fury
,
That
I
did
kill
them
.
Wherefore
did
you
so
?
Who
can
be
wise
,
amazed
,
temp’rate
,
and
furious
,
Loyal
,
and
neutral
,
in
a
moment
?
No
man
.
Th’
expedition
of
my
violent
love
Outrun
the
pauser
,
reason
.
Here
lay
Duncan
,
His
silver
skin
laced
with
his
golden
blood
,
And
his
gashed
stabs
looked
like
a
breach
in
nature
For
ruin’s
wasteful
entrance
;
there
the
murderers
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
Steeped
in
the
colors
of
their
trade
,
their
daggers
Unmannerly
breeched
with
gore
.
Who
could
refrain
That
had
a
heart
to
love
,
and
in
that
heart
Courage
to
make
’s
love
known
?
Help
me
hence
,
ho
!
Look
to
the
lady
.
,
aside
to
Donalbain
Why
do
we
hold
our
tongues
,
That
most
may
claim
this
argument
for
ours
?
,
aside
to
Malcolm
What
should
be
spoken
here
,
where
our
fate
,
Hid
in
an
auger
hole
,
may
rush
and
seize
us
?
Let’s
away
.
Our
tears
are
not
yet
brewed
.
,
aside
to
Donalbain
Nor
our
strong
sorrow
upon
the
foot
of
motion
.
Look
to
the
lady
.
Lady
Macbeth
is
assisted
to
leave
.
And
when
we
have
our
naked
frailties
hid
,
That
suffer
in
exposure
,
let
us
meet
And
question
this
most
bloody
piece
of
work
To
know
it
further
.
Fears
and
scruples
shake
us
.
In
the
great
hand
of
God
I
stand
,
and
thence
Against
the
undivulged
pretense
I
fight
Of
treasonous
malice
.
And
so
do
I
.
So
all
.
Let’s
briefly
put
on
manly
readiness
And
meet
i’
th’
hall
together
.
Well
contented
.
All
but
Malcolm
and
Donalbain
exit
.
What
will
you
do
?
Let’s
not
consort
with
them
.
To
show
an
unfelt
sorrow
is
an
office
Which
the
false
man
does
easy
.
I’ll
to
England
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
To
Ireland
I
.
Our
separated
fortune
Shall
keep
us
both
the
safer
.
Where
we
are
,
There’s
daggers
in
men’s
smiles
.
The
near
in
blood
,
The
nearer
bloody
.
This
murderous
shaft
that’s
shot
Hath
not
yet
lighted
,
and
our
safest
way
Is
to
avoid
the
aim
.
Therefore
to
horse
,
And
let
us
not
be
dainty
of
leave-taking
But
shift
away
.
There’s
warrant
in
that
theft
Which
steals
itself
when
there’s
no
mercy
left
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
Ross
with
an
Old
Man
.
Threescore
and
ten
I
can
remember
well
,
Within
the
volume
of
which
time
I
have
seen
Hours
dreadful
and
things
strange
,
but
this
sore
night
Hath
trifled
former
knowings
.
Ha
,
good
father
,
Thou
seest
the
heavens
,
as
troubled
with
man’s
act
,
Threatens
his
bloody
stage
.
By
th’
clock
’tis
day
,
And
yet
dark
night
strangles
the
traveling
lamp
.
Is
’t
night’s
predominance
or
the
day’s
shame
That
darkness
does
the
face
of
earth
entomb
When
living
light
should
kiss
it
?
’Tis
unnatural
,
Even
like
the
deed
that’s
done
.
On
Tuesday
last
A
falcon
,
tow’ring
in
her
pride
of
place
,
Was
by
a
mousing
owl
hawked
at
and
killed
.
And
Duncan’s
horses
(
a
thing
most
strange
and
certain
)
,
ACT 2. SC. 4
Beauteous
and
swift
,
the
minions
of
their
race
,
Turned
wild
in
nature
,
broke
their
stalls
,
flung
out
,
Contending
’gainst
obedience
,
as
they
would
Make
war
with
mankind
.
’Tis
said
they
eat
each
other
.
They
did
so
,
to
th’
amazement
of
mine
eyes
That
looked
upon
’t
.
Enter
Macduff
.
Here
comes
the
good
Macduff
.
—
How
goes
the
world
,
sir
,
now
?
Why
,
see
you
not
?
Is
’t
known
who
did
this
more
than
bloody
deed
?
Those
that
Macbeth
hath
slain
.
Alas
the
day
,
What
good
could
they
pretend
?
They
were
suborned
.
Malcolm
and
Donalbain
,
the
King’s
two
sons
,
Are
stol’n
away
and
fled
,
which
puts
upon
them
Suspicion
of
the
deed
.
’Gainst
nature
still
!
Thriftless
ambition
,
that
will
ravin
up
Thine
own
lives’
means
.
Then
’tis
most
like
The
sovereignty
will
fall
upon
Macbeth
.
He
is
already
named
and
gone
to
Scone
To
be
invested
.
Where
is
Duncan’s
body
?
Carried
to
Colmekill
,
The
sacred
storehouse
of
his
predecessors
And
guardian
of
their
bones
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Will
you
to
Scone
?
No
,
cousin
,
I’ll
to
Fife
.
Well
,
I
will
thither
.
Well
,
may
you
see
things
well
done
there
.
Adieu
,
Lest
our
old
robes
sit
easier
than
our
new
.
Farewell
,
father
.
God’s
benison
go
with
you
and
with
those
That
would
make
good
of
bad
and
friends
of
foes
.
All
exit
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Enter
Banquo
.
Thou
hast
it
now
—
king
King
,
Cawdor
,
Glamis
,
all
As
the
Weïrd
Women
promised
,
and
I
fear
Thou
played’st
most
foully
for
’t
.
Yet
it
was
said
It
should
not
stand
in
thy
posterity
,
But
that
myself
should
be
the
root
and
father
Of
many
kings
.
If
there
come
truth
from
them
(
As
upon
thee
,
Macbeth
,
their
speeches
shine
)
Why
,
by
the
verities
on
thee
made
good
,
May
they
not
be
my
oracles
as
well
,
And
set
me
up
in
hope
?
But
hush
,
no
more
.
Sennet
sounded
.
Enter
Macbeth
as
King
,
Lady
Macbeth
,
Lennox
,
Ross
,
Lords
,
and
Attendants
.
Here’s
our
chief
guest
.
If
he
had
been
forgotten
,
It
had
been
as
a
gap
in
our
great
feast
And
all-thing
unbecoming
.
Tonight
we
hold
a
solemn
supper
,
sir
,
And
I’ll
request
your
presence
.
Let
your
Highness
ACT 3. SC. 1
Command
upon
me
,
to
the
which
my
duties
Are
with
a
most
indissoluble
tie
Forever
knit
.
Ride
you
this
afternoon
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
We
should
have
else
desired
your
good
advice
(
Which
still
hath
been
both
grave
and
prosperous
)
In
this
day’s
council
,
but
we’ll
take
tomorrow
.
Is
’t
far
you
ride
?
As
far
,
my
lord
,
as
will
fill
up
the
time
’Twixt
this
and
supper
.
Go
not
my
horse
the
better
,
I
must
become
a
borrower
of
the
night
For
a
dark
hour
or
twain
.
Fail
not
our
feast
.
My
lord
,
I
will
not
.
We
hear
our
bloody
cousins
are
bestowed
In
England
and
in
Ireland
,
not
confessing
Their
cruel
parricide
,
filling
their
hearers
With
strange
invention
.
But
of
that
tomorrow
,
When
therewithal
we
shall
have
cause
of
state
Craving
us
jointly
.
Hie
you
to
horse
.
Adieu
,
Till
you
return
at
night
.
Goes
Fleance
with
you
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
Our
time
does
call
upon
’s
.
I
wish
your
horses
swift
and
sure
of
foot
,
And
so
I
do
commend
you
to
their
backs
.
Farewell
.
Banquo
exits
.
Let
every
man
be
master
of
his
time
Till
seven
at
night
.
To
make
society
The
sweeter
welcome
,
we
will
keep
ourself
Till
suppertime
alone
.
While
then
,
God
be
with
you
.
Lords
and
all
but
Macbeth
and
a
Servant
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Sirrah
,
a
word
with
you
.
Attend
those
men
Our
pleasure
?
They
are
,
my
lord
,
without
the
palace
gate
.
Bring
them
before
us
.
Servant
exits
.
To
be
thus
is
nothing
,
But
to
be
safely
thus
.
Our
fears
in
Banquo
Stick
deep
,
and
in
his
royalty
of
nature
Reigns
that
which
would
be
feared
.
’Tis
much
he
dares
,
And
to
that
dauntless
temper
of
his
mind
He
hath
a
wisdom
that
doth
guide
his
valor
To
act
in
safety
.
There
is
none
but
he
Whose
being
I
do
fear
;
and
under
him
My
genius
is
rebuked
,
as
it
is
said
Mark
Antony’s
was
by
Caesar
.
He
chid
the
sisters
When
first
they
put
the
name
of
king
upon
me
And
bade
them
speak
to
him
.
Then
,
prophet-like
,
They
hailed
him
father
to
a
line
of
kings
.
Upon
my
head
they
placed
a
fruitless
crown
And
put
a
barren
scepter
in
my
grip
,
Thence
to
be
wrenched
with
an
unlineal
hand
,
No
son
of
mine
succeeding
.
If
’t
be
so
,
For
Banquo’s
issue
have
I
filed
my
mind
;
For
them
the
gracious
Duncan
have
I
murdered
,
Put
rancors
in
the
vessel
of
my
peace
Only
for
them
,
and
mine
eternal
jewel
Given
to
the
common
enemy
of
man
To
make
them
kings
,
the
seeds
of
Banquo
kings
.
Rather
than
so
,
come
fate
into
the
list
,
And
champion
me
to
th’
utterance
.
—
Who’s
there
?
Enter
Servant
and
two
Murderers
.
To
the
Servant
.
Now
go
to
the
door
,
and
stay
there
till
we
call
.
Servant
exits
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
Was
it
not
yesterday
we
spoke
together
?
It
was
,
so
please
your
Highness
.
Well
then
,
now
Have
you
considered
of
my
speeches
?
Know
That
it
was
he
,
in
the
times
past
,
which
held
you
So
under
fortune
,
which
you
thought
had
been
Our
innocent
self
.
This
I
made
good
to
you
In
our
last
conference
,
passed
in
probation
with
you
How
you
were
borne
in
hand
,
how
crossed
,
the
instruments
,
Who
wrought
with
them
,
and
all
things
else
that
might
To
half
a
soul
and
to
a
notion
crazed
Say
Thus
did
Banquo
.
You
made
it
known
to
us
.
I
did
so
,
and
went
further
,
which
is
now
Our
point
of
second
meeting
.
Do
you
find
Your
patience
so
predominant
in
your
nature
That
you
can
let
this
go
?
Are
you
so
gospeled
To
pray
for
this
good
man
and
for
his
issue
,
Whose
heavy
hand
hath
bowed
you
to
the
grave
And
beggared
yours
forever
?
We
are
men
,
my
liege
.
Ay
,
in
the
catalogue
you
go
for
men
,
As
hounds
and
greyhounds
,
mongrels
,
spaniels
,
curs
,
Shoughs
,
water-rugs
,
and
demi-wolves
are
clept
All
by
the
name
of
dogs
.
The
valued
file
Distinguishes
the
swift
,
the
slow
,
the
subtle
,
The
housekeeper
,
the
hunter
,
every
one
According
to
the
gift
which
bounteous
nature
Hath
in
him
closed
;
whereby
he
does
receive
ACT 3. SC. 1
Particular
addition
,
from
the
bill
That
writes
them
all
alike
.
And
so
of
men
.
Now
,
if
you
have
a
station
in
the
file
,
Not
i’
th’
worst
rank
of
manhood
,
say
’t
,
And
I
will
put
that
business
in
your
bosoms
Whose
execution
takes
your
enemy
off
,
Grapples
you
to
the
heart
and
love
of
us
,
Who
wear
our
health
but
sickly
in
his
life
,
Which
in
his
death
were
perfect
.
I
am
one
,
my
liege
,
Whom
the
vile
blows
and
buffets
of
the
world
Hath
so
incensed
that
I
am
reckless
what
I
do
to
spite
the
world
.
And
I
another
So
weary
with
disasters
,
tugged
with
fortune
,
That
I
would
set
my
life
on
any
chance
,
To
mend
it
or
be
rid
on
’t
.
Both
of
you
Know
Banquo
was
your
enemy
.
True
,
my
lord
.
So
is
he
mine
,
and
in
such
bloody
distance
That
every
minute
of
his
being
thrusts
Against
my
near’st
of
life
.
And
though
I
could
With
barefaced
power
sweep
him
from
my
sight
And
bid
my
will
avouch
it
,
yet
I
must
not
,
For
certain
friends
that
are
both
his
and
mine
,
Whose
loves
I
may
not
drop
,
but
wail
his
fall
Who
I
myself
struck
down
.
And
thence
it
is
That
I
to
your
assistance
do
make
love
,
Masking
the
business
from
the
common
eye
For
sundry
weighty
reasons
.
We
shall
,
my
lord
,
Perform
what
you
command
us
.
Though
our
lives
—
ACT 3. SC. 2
Your
spirits
shine
through
you
.
Within
this
hour
at
most
I
will
advise
you
where
to
plant
yourselves
,
Acquaint
you
with
the
perfect
spy
o’
th’
time
,
The
moment
on
’t
,
for
’t
must
be
done
tonight
And
something
from
the
palace
;
always
thought
That
I
require
a
clearness
.
And
with
him
(
To
leave
no
rubs
nor
botches
in
the
work
)
Fleance
,
his
son
,
that
keeps
him
company
,
Whose
absence
is
no
less
material
to
me
Than
is
his
father’s
,
must
embrace
the
fate
Of
that
dark
hour
.
Resolve
yourselves
apart
.
I’ll
come
to
you
anon
.
We
are
resolved
,
my
lord
.
I’ll
call
upon
you
straight
.
Abide
within
.
Murderers
exit
.
It
is
concluded
.
Banquo
,
thy
soul’s
flight
,
If
it
find
heaven
,
must
find
it
out
tonight
.
He
exits
.
Scene
2
Enter
Macbeth’s
Lady
and
a
Servant
.
Is
Banquo
gone
from
court
?
Ay
,
madam
,
but
returns
again
tonight
.
Say
to
the
King
I
would
attend
his
leisure
For
a
few
words
.
Madam
,
I
will
.
He
exits
.
Naught’s
had
,
all’s
spent
,
Where
our
desire
is
got
without
content
.
’Tis
safer
to
be
that
which
we
destroy
Than
by
destruction
dwell
in
doubtful
joy
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Enter
Macbeth
.
How
now
,
my
lord
,
why
do
you
keep
alone
,
Of
sorriest
fancies
your
companions
making
,
Using
those
thoughts
which
should
indeed
have
died
With
them
they
think
on
?
Things
without
all
remedy
Should
be
without
regard
.
What’s
done
is
done
.
We
have
scorched
the
snake
,
not
killed
it
.
She’ll
close
and
be
herself
whilst
our
poor
malice
Remains
in
danger
of
her
former
tooth
.
But
let
the
frame
of
things
disjoint
,
both
the
worlds
suffer
,
Ere
we
will
eat
our
meal
in
fear
,
and
sleep
In
the
affliction
of
these
terrible
dreams
That
shake
us
nightly
.
Better
be
with
the
dead
,
Whom
we
,
to
gain
our
peace
,
have
sent
to
peace
,
Than
on
the
torture
of
the
mind
to
lie
In
restless
ecstasy
.
Duncan
is
in
his
grave
.
After
life’s
fitful
fever
he
sleeps
well
.
Treason
has
done
his
worst
;
nor
steel
nor
poison
,
Malice
domestic
,
foreign
levy
,
nothing
Can
touch
him
further
.
Come
on
,
gentle
my
lord
,
Sleek
o’er
your
rugged
looks
.
Be
bright
and
jovial
Among
your
guests
tonight
.
So
shall
I
,
love
,
And
so
I
pray
be
you
.
Let
your
remembrance
Apply
to
Banquo
;
present
him
eminence
Both
with
eye
and
tongue
:
unsafe
the
while
that
we
Must
lave
our
honors
in
these
flattering
streams
And
make
our
faces
vizards
to
our
hearts
,
Disguising
what
they
are
.
You
must
leave
this
.
O
,
full
of
scorpions
is
my
mind
,
dear
wife
!
Thou
know’st
that
Banquo
and
his
Fleance
lives
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
But
in
them
nature’s
copy’s
not
eterne
.
There’s
comfort
yet
;
they
are
assailable
.
Then
be
thou
jocund
.
Ere
the
bat
hath
flown
His
cloistered
flight
,
ere
to
black
Hecate’s
summons
The
shard-born
shard-borne
beetle
with
his
drowsy
hums
Hath
rung
night’s
yawning
peal
,
there
shall
be
done
A
deed
of
dreadful
note
.
What’s
to
be
done
?
Be
innocent
of
the
knowledge
,
dearest
chuck
,
Till
thou
applaud
the
deed
.
—
Come
,
seeling
night
,
Scarf
up
the
tender
eye
of
pitiful
day
And
with
thy
bloody
and
invisible
hand
Cancel
and
tear
to
pieces
that
great
bond
Which
keeps
me
pale
.
Light
thickens
,
and
the
crow
Makes
wing
to
th’
rooky
wood
.
Good
things
of
day
begin
to
droop
and
drowse
,
Whiles
night’s
black
agents
to
their
preys
do
rouse
.
—
Thou
marvel’st
at
my
words
,
but
hold
thee
still
.
Things
bad
begun
make
strong
themselves
by
ill
.
So
prithee
go
with
me
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Enter
three
Murderers
.
But
who
did
bid
thee
join
with
us
?
Macbeth
.
,
to
the
First
Murderer
He
needs
not
our
mistrust
,
since
he
delivers
Our
offices
and
what
we
have
to
do
To
the
direction
just
.
ACT 3. SC. 3
Then
stand
with
us
.
—
The
west
yet
glimmers
with
some
streaks
of
day
.
Now
spurs
the
lated
traveler
apace
To
gain
the
timely
inn
,
and
near
approaches
The
subject
of
our
watch
.
Hark
,
I
hear
horses
.
,
within
Give
us
a
light
there
,
ho
!
Then
’tis
he
.
The
rest
That
are
within
the
note
of
expectation
Already
are
i’
th’
court
.
His
horses
go
about
.
Almost
a
mile
;
but
he
does
usually
(
So
all
men
do
)
from
hence
to
th’
palace
gate
Make
it
their
walk
.
Enter
Banquo
and
Fleance
,
with
a
torch
.
A
light
,
a
light
!
’Tis
he
.
Stand
to
’t
.
,
to
Fleance
It
will
be
rain
tonight
.
Let
it
come
down
!
The
three
Murderers
attack
.
O
treachery
!
Fly
,
good
Fleance
,
fly
,
fly
,
fly
!
Thou
mayst
revenge
—
O
slave
!
He
dies
.
Fleance
exits
.
Who
did
strike
out
the
light
?
Was
’t
not
the
way
?
There’s
but
one
down
.
The
son
is
fled
.
We
have
lost
best
half
of
our
affair
.
Well
,
let’s
away
and
say
how
much
is
done
.
They
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Scene
4
Banquet
prepared
.
Enter
Macbeth
,
Lady
Macbeth
,
Ross
,
Lennox
,
Lords
,
and
Attendants
.
You
know
your
own
degrees
;
sit
down
.
At
first
And
last
,
the
hearty
welcome
.
They
sit
.
Thanks
to
your
Majesty
.
Ourself
will
mingle
with
society
And
play
the
humble
host
.
Our
hostess
keeps
her
state
,
but
in
best
time
We
will
require
her
welcome
.
Pronounce
it
for
me
,
sir
,
to
all
our
friends
,
For
my
heart
speaks
they
are
welcome
.
Enter
First
Murderer
to
the
door
.
See
,
they
encounter
thee
with
their
hearts’
thanks
.
Both
sides
are
even
.
Here
I’ll
sit
i’
th’
midst
.
Be
large
in
mirth
.
Anon
we’ll
drink
a
measure
The
table
round
.
He
Approaching
approaches
the
Murderer
.
There’s
blood
upon
thy
face
.
’Tis
Banquo’s
then
.
’Tis
better
thee
without
than
he
within
.
Is
he
dispatched
?
My
lord
,
his
throat
is
cut
.
That
I
did
for
him
.
Thou
art
the
best
o’
th’
cutthroats
,
Yet
he’s
good
that
did
the
like
for
Fleance
.
If
thou
didst
it
,
thou
art
the
nonpareil
.
Most
royal
sir
,
Fleance
is
’scaped
.
,
aside
Then
comes
my
fit
again
.
I
had
else
been
perfect
,
ACT 3. SC. 4
Whole
as
the
marble
,
founded
as
the
rock
,
As
broad
and
general
as
the
casing
air
.
But
now
I
am
cabined
,
cribbed
,
confined
,
bound
in
To
saucy
doubts
and
fears
.
—
But
Banquo’s
safe
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
Safe
in
a
ditch
he
bides
,
With
twenty
trenchèd
gashes
on
his
head
,
The
least
a
death
to
nature
.
Thanks
for
that
.
There
the
grown
serpent
lies
.
The
worm
that’s
fled
Hath
nature
that
in
time
will
venom
breed
,
No
teeth
for
th’
present
.
Get
thee
gone
.
Tomorrow
We’ll
hear
ourselves
again
.
Murderer
exits
.
My
royal
lord
,
You
do
not
give
the
cheer
.
The
feast
is
sold
That
is
not
often
vouched
,
while
’tis
a-making
,
’Tis
given
with
welcome
.
To
feed
were
best
at
home
;
From
thence
,
the
sauce
to
meat
is
ceremony
;
Meeting
were
bare
without
it
.
Enter
the
Ghost
of
Banquo
,
and
sits
in
Macbeth’s
place
.
,
to
Lady
Macbeth
Sweet
remembrancer
!
—
Now
,
good
digestion
wait
on
appetite
And
health
on
both
!
May
’t
please
your
Highness
sit
.
Here
had
we
now
our
country’s
honor
roofed
,
Were
the
graced
person
of
our
Banquo
present
,
Who
may
I
rather
challenge
for
unkindness
Than
pity
for
mischance
.
His
absence
,
sir
,
Lays
blame
upon
his
promise
.
Please
’t
your
Highness
To
grace
us
with
your
royal
company
?
The
table’s
full
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
Here
is
a
place
reserved
,
sir
.
Where
?
Here
,
my
good
lord
.
What
is
’t
that
moves
your
Highness
?
Which
of
you
have
done
this
?
What
,
my
good
lord
?
,
to
the
Ghost
Thou
canst
not
say
I
did
it
.
Never
shake
Thy
gory
locks
at
me
.
Gentlemen
,
rise
.
His
Highness
is
not
well
.
Sit
,
worthy
friends
.
My
lord
is
often
thus
And
hath
been
from
his
youth
.
Pray
you
,
keep
seat
.
The
fit
is
momentary
;
upon
a
thought
He
will
again
be
well
.
If
much
you
note
him
You
shall
offend
him
and
extend
his
passion
.
Feed
and
regard
him
not
.
Drawing
Macbeth
aside
.
Are
you
a
man
?
Ay
,
and
a
bold
one
,
that
dare
look
on
that
Which
might
appall
the
devil
.
O
,
proper
stuff
!
This
is
the
very
painting
of
your
fear
.
This
is
the
air-drawn
dagger
which
you
said
Led
you
to
Duncan
.
O
,
these
flaws
and
starts
,
Impostors
to
true
fear
,
would
well
become
A
woman’s
story
at
a
winter’s
fire
,
Authorized
by
her
grandam
.
Shame
itself
!
Why
do
you
make
such
faces
?
When
all’s
done
,
You
look
but
on
a
stool
.
Prithee
,
see
there
.
Behold
,
look
!
To
the
Ghost
.
Lo
,
how
say
you
?
ACT 3. SC. 4
Why
,
what
care
I
?
If
thou
canst
nod
,
speak
too
.
—
If
charnel
houses
and
our
graves
must
send
Those
that
we
bury
back
,
our
monuments
Shall
be
the
maws
of
kites
.
Ghost
exits
.
What
,
quite
unmanned
in
folly
?
If
I
stand
here
,
I
saw
him
.
Fie
,
for
shame
!
Blood
hath
been
shed
ere
now
,
i’
th’
olden
time
,
Ere
humane
statute
purged
the
gentle
weal
;
Ay
,
and
since
too
,
murders
have
been
performed
Too
terrible
for
the
ear
.
The
time
has
been
That
,
when
the
brains
were
out
,
the
man
would
die
,
And
there
an
end
.
But
now
they
rise
again
With
twenty
mortal
murders
on
their
crowns
And
push
us
from
our
stools
.
This
is
more
strange
Than
such
a
murder
is
.
My
worthy
lord
,
Your
noble
friends
do
lack
you
.
I
do
forget
.
—
Do
not
muse
at
me
,
my
most
worthy
friends
.
I
have
a
strange
infirmity
,
which
is
nothing
To
those
that
know
me
.
Come
,
love
and
health
to
all
.
Then
I’ll
sit
down
.
—
Give
me
some
wine
.
Fill
full
.
Enter
Ghost
.
I
drink
to
th’
general
joy
o’
th’
whole
table
And
to
our
dear
friend
Banquo
,
whom
we
miss
.
Would
he
were
here
!
To
all
,
and
him
we
thirst
,
And
all
to
all
.
Our
duties
,
and
the
pledge
.
They
raise
their
drinking
cups
.
,
to
the
Ghost
Avaunt
,
and
quit
my
sight
!
Let
the
earth
hide
thee
.
Thy
bones
are
marrowless
;
thy
blood
is
cold
;
ACT 3. SC. 4
Thou
hast
no
speculation
in
those
eyes
Which
thou
dost
glare
with
.
Think
of
this
,
good
peers
,
But
as
a
thing
of
custom
.
’Tis
no
other
;
Only
it
spoils
the
pleasure
of
the
time
.
,
to
the
Ghost
What
man
dare
,
I
dare
.
Approach
thou
like
the
rugged
Russian
bear
,
The
armed
rhinoceros
,
or
th’
Hyrcan
tiger
;
Take
any
shape
but
that
,
and
my
firm
nerves
Shall
never
tremble
.
Or
be
alive
again
And
dare
me
to
the
desert
with
thy
sword
.
If
trembling
I
inhabit
then
,
protest
me
The
baby
of
a
girl
.
Hence
,
horrible
shadow
!
Unreal
mock’ry
,
hence
!
Ghost
exits
.
Why
so
,
being
gone
,
I
am
a
man
again
.
—
Pray
you
sit
still
.
You
have
displaced
the
mirth
,
broke
the
good
meeting
With
most
admired
disorder
.
Can
such
things
be
And
overcome
us
like
a
summer’s
cloud
,
Without
our
special
wonder
?
You
make
me
strange
Even
to
the
disposition
that
I
owe
,
When
now
I
think
you
can
behold
such
sights
And
keep
the
natural
ruby
of
your
cheeks
When
mine
is
blanched
with
fear
.
What
sights
,
my
lord
?
I
pray
you
,
speak
not
.
He
grows
worse
and
worse
.
Question
enrages
him
.
At
once
,
good
night
.
Stand
not
upon
the
order
of
your
going
,
But
go
at
once
.
Good
night
,
and
better
health
Attend
his
Majesty
.
ACT 3. SC. 4
A
kind
good
night
to
all
.
Lords
and
all
but
Macbeth
and
Lady
Macbeth
exit
.
It
will
have
blood
,
they
say
;
blood
will
have
blood
.
Stones
have
been
known
to
move
,
and
trees
to
speak
.
;
Augurs
and
understood
relations
have
By
maggot
pies
and
choughs
and
rooks
brought
forth
The
secret’st
man
of
blood
.
—
What
is
the
night
?
Almost
at
odds
with
morning
,
which
is
which
.
How
say’st
thou
that
Macduff
denies
his
person
At
our
great
bidding
?
Did
you
send
to
him
,
sir
?
I
hear
it
by
the
way
;
but
I
will
send
.
There’s
not
a
one
of
them
but
in
his
house
I
keep
a
servant
fee’d
.
I
will
tomorrow
(
And
betimes
I
will
)
to
the
Weïrd
Sisters
.
More
shall
they
speak
,
for
now
I
am
bent
to
know
By
the
worst
means
the
worst
.
For
mine
own
good
,
All
causes
shall
give
way
.
I
am
in
blood
Stepped
in
so
far
that
,
should
I
wade
no
more
,
Returning
were
as
tedious
as
go
o’er
.
Strange
things
I
have
in
head
,
that
will
to
hand
,
Which
must
be
acted
ere
they
may
be
scanned
.
You
lack
the
season
of
all
natures
,
sleep
.
Come
,
we’ll
to
sleep
.
My
strange
and
self-abuse
Is
the
initiate
fear
that
wants
hard
use
.
We
are
yet
but
young
in
deed
.
They
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 5
Scene
5
Thunder
.
Enter
the
three
Witches
,
meeting
Hecate
.
Why
,
how
now
,
Hecate
?
You
look
angerly
.
Have
I
not
reason
,
beldams
as
you
are
?
Saucy
and
overbold
,
how
did
you
dare
To
trade
and
traffic
with
Macbeth
In
riddles
and
affairs
of
death
,
And
I
,
the
mistress
of
your
charms
,
The
close
contriver
of
all
harms
,
Was
never
called
to
bear
my
part
Or
show
the
glory
of
our
art
?
And
which
is
worse
,
all
you
have
done
Hath
been
but
for
a
wayward
son
,
Spiteful
and
wrathful
,
who
,
as
others
do
,
Loves
for
his
own
ends
,
not
for
you
.
But
make
amends
now
.
Get
you
gone
,
And
at
the
pit
of
Acheron
Meet
me
i’
th’
morning
.
Thither
he
Will
come
to
know
his
destiny
.
Your
vessels
and
your
spells
provide
,
Your
charms
and
everything
beside
.
I
am
for
th’
air
.
This
night
I’ll
spend
Unto
a
dismal
and
a
fatal
end
.
Great
business
must
be
wrought
ere
noon
.
Upon
the
corner
of
the
moon
There
hangs
a
vap’rous
drop
profound
.
I’ll
catch
it
ere
it
come
to
ground
,
And
that
,
distilled
by
magic
sleights
,
Shall
raise
such
artificial
sprites
As
by
the
strength
of
their
illusion
Shall
draw
him
on
to
his
confusion
.
He
shall
spurn
fate
,
scorn
death
,
and
bear
His
hopes
’bove
wisdom
,
grace
,
and
fear
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
And
you
all
know
,
security
Is
mortals’
chiefest
enemy
.
Music
and
a
song
.
Hark
!
I
am
called
.
My
little
spirit
,
see
,
Sits
in
a
foggy
cloud
and
stays
for
me
.
Hecate
exits
.
Sing
within
Come
away
,
come
away
,
etc.
Come
,
let’s
make
haste
.
She’ll
soon
be
back
again
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Enter
Lennox
and
another
Lord
.
My
former
speeches
have
but
hit
your
thoughts
,
Which
can
interpret
farther
.
Only
I
say
Things
have
been
strangely
borne
.
The
gracious
Duncan
Was
pitied
of
Macbeth
;
marry
,
he
was
dead
.
And
the
right
valiant
Banquo
walked
too
late
,
Whom
you
may
say
,
if
’t
please
you
,
Fleance
killed
,
For
Fleance
fled
.
Men
must
not
walk
too
late
.
Who
cannot
want
the
thought
how
monstrous
It
was
for
Malcolm
and
for
Donalbain
To
kill
their
gracious
father
?
Damnèd
fact
,
How
it
did
grieve
Macbeth
!
Did
he
not
straight
In
pious
rage
the
two
delinquents
tear
That
were
the
slaves
of
drink
and
thralls
of
sleep
?
Was
not
that
nobly
done
?
Ay
,
and
wisely
,
too
,
For
’twould
have
angered
any
heart
alive
To
hear
the
men
deny
’t
.
So
that
I
say
He
has
borne
all
things
well
.
And
I
do
think
That
had
he
Duncan’s
sons
under
his
key
(
As
,
an
’t
please
heaven
,
he
shall
not
)
they
should
find
What
’twere
to
kill
a
father
.
So
should
Fleance
.
ACT 3. SC. 6
But
peace
.
For
from
broad
words
,
and
’cause
he
failed
His
presence
at
the
tyrant’s
feast
,
I
hear
Macduff
lives
in
disgrace
.
Sir
,
can
you
tell
Where
he
bestows
himself
?
The
son
of
Duncan
(
From
whom
this
tyrant
holds
the
due
of
birth
)
Lives
in
the
English
court
and
is
received
Of
the
most
pious
Edward
with
such
grace
That
the
malevolence
of
fortune
nothing
Takes
from
his
high
respect
.
Thither
Macduff
Is
gone
to
pray
the
holy
king
upon
his
aid
To
wake
Northumberland
and
warlike
Siward
That
,
by
the
help
of
these
(
with
Him
above
To
ratify
the
work
)
,
we
may
again
Give
to
our
tables
meat
,
sleep
to
our
nights
,
Free
from
our
feasts
and
banquets
bloody
knives
,
Do
faithful
homage
,
and
receive
free
honors
,
All
which
we
pine
for
now
.
And
this
report
Hath
so
exasperate
the
King
that
he
Prepares
for
some
attempt
of
war
.
Sent
he
to
Macduff
?
He
did
,
and
with
an
absolute
Sir
,
not
I
,
The
cloudy
messenger
turns
me
his
back
And
hums
,
as
who
should
say
You’ll
rue
the
time
That
clogs
me
with
this
answer
.
And
that
well
might
Advise
him
to
a
caution
t’
hold
what
distance
His
wisdom
can
provide
.
Some
holy
angel
Fly
to
the
court
of
England
and
unfold
His
message
ere
he
come
,
that
a
swift
blessing
May
soon
return
to
this
our
suffering
country
Under
a
hand
accursed
.
I’ll
send
my
prayers
with
him
.
They
exit
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Thunder
.
Enter
the
three
Witches
.
Thrice
the
brinded
cat
hath
mewed
.
Thrice
,
and
once
the
hedge-pig
whined
.
Harpier
cries
’Tis
time
,
’tis
time
!
Round
about
the
cauldron
go
;
In
the
poisoned
entrails
throw
.
Toad
,
that
under
cold
stone
Days
and
nights
has
thirty-one
Sweltered
venom
sleeping
got
,
Boil
thou
first
i’
th’
charmèd
pot
.
The
Witches
circle
the
cauldron
.
Double
,
double
toil
and
trouble
;
Fire
burn
,
and
cauldron
bubble
.
Fillet
of
a
fenny
snake
In
the
cauldron
boil
and
bake
.
Eye
of
newt
and
toe
of
frog
,
Wool
of
bat
and
tongue
of
dog
,
Adder’s
fork
and
blindworm’s
sting
,
ACT 4. SC. 1
Lizard’s
leg
and
howlet’s
wing
,
For
a
charm
of
powerful
trouble
,
Like
a
hell-broth
boil
and
bubble
.
Double
,
double
toil
and
trouble
;
Fire
burn
,
and
cauldron
bubble
.
Scale
of
dragon
,
tooth
of
wolf
,
Witch’s
mummy
,
maw
and
gulf
Of
the
ravined
salt-sea
shark
,
Root
of
hemlock
digged
i’
th’
dark
,
Liver
of
blaspheming
Jew
,
Gall
of
goat
and
slips
of
yew
Slivered
in
the
moon’s
eclipse
,
Nose
of
Turk
and
Tartar’s
lips
,
Finger
of
birth-strangled
babe
Ditch-delivered
by
a
drab
,
Make
the
gruel
thick
and
slab
.
Add
thereto
a
tiger’s
chaudron
For
th’
ingredience
of
our
cauldron
.
Double
,
double
toil
and
trouble
;
Fire
burn
,
and
cauldron
bubble
.
Cool
it
with
a
baboon’s
blood
.
Then
the
charm
is
firm
and
good
.
Enter
Hecate
to
the
other
three
Witches
.
O
,
well
done
!
I
commend
your
pains
,
And
everyone
shall
share
i’
th’
gains
.
And
now
about
the
cauldron
sing
Like
elves
and
fairies
in
a
ring
,
Enchanting
all
that
you
put
in
.
Music
and
a
song
:
Black
Spirits
,
etc.
Hecate
exits
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
By
the
pricking
of
my
thumbs
,
Something
wicked
this
way
comes
.
Open
,
locks
,
Whoever
knocks
.
Enter
Macbeth
.
How
now
,
you
secret
,
black
,
and
midnight
hags
?
What
is
’t
you
do
?
A
deed
without
a
name
.
I
conjure
you
by
that
which
you
profess
(
Howe’er
you
come
to
know
it
)
,
answer
me
.
Though
you
untie
the
winds
and
let
them
fight
Against
the
churches
,
though
the
yeasty
waves
Confound
and
swallow
navigation
up
,
Though
bladed
corn
be
lodged
and
trees
blown
down
,
Though
castles
topple
on
their
warders’
heads
,
Though
palaces
and
pyramids
do
slope
Their
heads
to
their
foundations
,
though
the
treasure
Of
nature’s
germens
tumble
all
together
Even
till
destruction
sicken
,
answer
me
To
what
I
ask
you
.
Speak
.
Demand
.
We’ll
answer
.
Say
if
th’
hadst
rather
hear
it
from
our
mouths
Or
from
our
masters’
.
Call
’em
.
Let
me
see
’em
.
Pour
in
sow’s
blood
that
hath
eaten
Her
nine
farrow
;
grease
that’s
sweaten
ACT 4. SC. 1
From
the
murderers’
gibbet
throw
Into
the
flame
.
Come
high
or
low
;
Thyself
and
office
deftly
show
.
Thunder
.
First
Apparition
,
an
Armed
Head
.
Tell
me
,
thou
unknown
power
—
He
knows
thy
thought
.
Hear
his
speech
but
say
thou
naught
.
Macbeth
!
Macbeth
!
Macbeth
!
Beware
Macduff
!
Beware
the
Thane
of
Fife
!
Dismiss
me
.
Enough
.
He
descends
.
Whate’er
thou
art
,
for
thy
good
caution
,
thanks
.
Thou
hast
harped
my
fear
aright
.
But
one
word
more
—
He
will
not
be
commanded
.
Here’s
another
More
potent
than
the
first
.
Thunder
.
Second
Apparition
,
a
Bloody
Child
.
Macbeth
!
Macbeth
!
Macbeth
!
—
Had
I
three
ears
,
I’d
hear
thee
.
Be
bloody
,
bold
,
and
resolute
.
Laugh
to
scorn
The
power
of
man
,
for
none
of
woman
born
Shall
harm
Macbeth
.
He
descends
.
Then
live
,
Macduff
;
what
need
I
fear
of
thee
?
But
yet
I’ll
make
assurance
double
sure
And
take
a
bond
of
fate
.
Thou
shalt
not
live
,
That
I
may
tell
pale-hearted
fear
it
lies
,
And
sleep
in
spite
of
thunder
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Thunder
.
Third
Apparition
,
a
Child
Crowned
,
with
a
tree
in
his
hand
.
What
is
this
That
rises
like
the
issue
of
a
king
And
wears
upon
his
baby
brow
the
round
And
top
of
sovereignty
?
Listen
but
speak
not
to
’t
.
Be
lion-mettled
,
proud
,
and
take
no
care
Who
chafes
,
who
frets
,
or
where
conspirers
are
.
Macbeth
shall
never
vanquished
be
until
Great
Birnam
Wood
to
high
Dunsinane
Hill
Shall
come
against
him
.
He
descends
.
That
will
never
be
.
Who
can
impress
the
forest
,
bid
the
tree
Unfix
his
earthbound
root
?
Sweet
bodements
,
good
!
Rebellious
dead
,
rise
never
till
the
Wood
wood
Of
Birnam
rise
,
and
our
high-placed
Macbeth
Shall
live
the
lease
of
nature
,
pay
his
breath
To
time
and
mortal
custom
.
Yet
my
heart
Throbs
to
know
one
thing
.
Tell
me
,
if
your
art
Can
tell
so
much
:
shall
Banquo’s
issue
ever
Reign
in
this
kingdom
?
Seek
to
know
no
more
.
I
will
be
satisfied
.
Deny
me
this
,
And
an
eternal
curse
fall
on
you
!
Let
me
know
!
Cauldron
sinks
.
Hautboys
.
Why
sinks
that
cauldron
?
And
what
noise
is
this
?
Show
.
Show
.
Show
.
Show
his
eyes
and
grieve
his
heart
.
Come
like
shadows
;
so
depart
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
A
show
of
eight
kings
,
the
eighth
king
with
a
glass
in
his
hand
,
and
Banquo
last
.
Thou
art
too
like
the
spirit
of
Banquo
.
Down
!
Thy
crown
does
sear
mine
eyeballs
.
And
thy
hair
,
Thou
other
gold-bound
brow
,
is
like
the
first
.
A
third
is
like
the
former
.
—
Filthy
hags
,
Why
do
you
show
me
this
?
—
A
fourth
?
Start
,
eyes
!
What
,
will
the
line
stretch
out
to
th’
crack
of
doom
?
Another
yet
?
A
seventh
?
I’ll
see
no
more
.
And
yet
the
eighth
appears
who
bears
a
glass
Which
shows
me
many
more
,
and
some
I
see
That
twofold
balls
and
treble
scepters
carry
.
Horrible
sight
!
Now
I
see
’tis
true
,
For
the
blood-boltered
Banquo
smiles
upon
me
And
points
at
them
for
his
.
The
Apparitions
disappear
.
What
,
is
this
so
?
Ay
,
sir
,
all
this
is
so
.
But
why
Stands
Macbeth
thus
amazedly
?
Come
,
sisters
,
cheer
we
up
his
sprites
And
show
the
best
of
our
delights
.
I’ll
charm
the
air
to
give
a
sound
While
you
perform
your
antic
round
,
That
this
great
king
may
kindly
say
Our
duties
did
his
welcome
pay
.
Music
.
The
Witches
dance
and
vanish
.
Where
are
they
?
Gone
?
Let
this
pernicious
hour
Stand
aye
accursèd
in
the
calendar
!
—
Come
in
,
without
there
.
Enter
Lennox
.
What’s
your
Grace’s
will
?
ACT 4. SC. 1
Saw
you
the
Weïrd
Sisters
?
No
,
my
lord
.
Came
they
not
by
you
?
No
,
indeed
,
my
lord
.
Infected
be
the
air
whereon
they
ride
,
And
damned
all
those
that
trust
them
!
I
did
hear
The
galloping
of
horse
.
Who
was
’t
came
by
?
’Tis
two
or
three
,
my
lord
,
that
bring
you
word
Macduff
is
fled
to
England
.
Fled
to
England
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
,
aside
Time
,
thou
anticipat’st
my
dread
exploits
.
The
flighty
purpose
never
is
o’ertook
Unless
the
deed
go
with
it
.
From
this
moment
The
very
firstlings
of
my
heart
shall
be
The
firstlings
of
my
hand
.
And
even
now
,
To
crown
my
thoughts
with
acts
,
be
it
thought
and
done
:
The
castle
of
Macduff
I
will
surprise
,
Seize
upon
Fife
,
give
to
th’
edge
o’
th’
sword
His
wife
,
his
babes
,
and
all
unfortunate
souls
That
trace
him
in
his
line
.
No
boasting
like
a
fool
;
This
deed
I’ll
do
before
this
purpose
cool
.
But
no
more
sights
!
—
Where
are
these
gentlemen
?
Come
bring
me
where
they
are
.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Scene
2
Enter
Macduff’s
Wife
,
her
Son
,
and
Ross
.
What
had
he
done
to
make
him
fly
the
land
?
You
must
have
patience
,
madam
.
He
had
none
.
His
flight
was
madness
.
When
our
actions
do
not
,
Our
fears
do
make
us
traitors
.
You
know
not
Whether
it
was
his
wisdom
or
his
fear
.
Wisdom
?
To
leave
his
wife
,
to
leave
his
babes
,
His
mansion
and
his
titles
in
a
place
From
whence
himself
does
fly
?
He
loves
us
not
;
He
wants
the
natural
touch
;
for
the
poor
wren
,
(
The
most
diminutive
of
birds
,
)
will
fight
,
Her
young
ones
in
her
nest
,
against
the
owl
.
All
is
the
fear
,
and
nothing
is
the
love
,
As
little
is
the
wisdom
,
where
the
flight
So
runs
against
all
reason
.
My
dearest
coz
,
I
pray
you
school
yourself
.
But
for
your
husband
,
He
is
noble
,
wise
,
judicious
,
and
best
knows
The
fits
o’
th’
season
.
I
dare
not
speak
much
further
;
But
cruel
are
the
times
when
we
are
traitors
And
do
not
know
ourselves
;
when
we
hold
rumor
From
what
we
fear
,
yet
know
not
what
we
fear
,
But
float
upon
a
wild
and
violent
sea
Each
way
and
move
—
I
take
my
leave
of
you
.
Shall
not
be
long
but
I’ll
be
here
again
.
Things
at
the
worst
will
cease
or
else
climb
upward
To
what
they
were
before
.
—
My
pretty
cousin
,
Blessing
upon
you
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
Fathered
he
is
,
and
yet
he’s
fatherless
.
I
am
so
much
a
fool
,
should
I
stay
longer
It
would
be
my
disgrace
and
your
discomfort
.
I
take
my
leave
at
once
.
Ross
exits
.
Sirrah
,
your
father’s
dead
.
And
what
will
you
do
now
?
How
will
you
live
?
As
birds
do
,
mother
.
What
,
with
worms
and
flies
?
With
what
I
get
,
I
mean
;
and
so
do
they
.
Poor
bird
,
thou
’dst
never
fear
the
net
nor
lime
,
The
pitfall
nor
the
gin
.
Why
should
I
,
mother
?
Poor
birds
they
are
not
set
for
.
My
father
is
not
dead
,
for
all
your
saying
.
Yes
,
he
is
dead
.
How
wilt
thou
do
for
a
father
?
Nay
,
how
will
you
do
for
a
husband
?
Why
,
I
can
buy
me
twenty
at
any
market
.
Then
you’ll
buy
’em
to
sell
again
.
Thou
speak’st
with
all
thy
wit
,
And
yet
,
i’
faith
,
with
wit
enough
for
thee
.
Was
my
father
a
traitor
,
mother
?
Ay
,
that
he
was
.
What
is
a
traitor
?
Why
,
one
that
swears
and
lies
.
And
be
all
traitors
that
do
so
?
Every
one
that
does
so
is
a
traitor
and
must
be
hanged
.
And
must
they
all
be
hanged
that
swear
and
lie
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
Every
one
.
Who
must
hang
them
?
Why
,
the
honest
men
.
Then
the
liars
and
swearers
are
fools
,
for
there
are
liars
and
swearers
enough
to
beat
the
honest
men
and
hang
up
them
.
Now
God
help
thee
,
poor
monkey
!
But
how
wilt
thou
do
for
a
father
?
If
he
were
dead
,
you’d
weep
for
him
.
If
you
would
not
,
it
were
a
good
sign
that
I
should
quickly
have
a
new
father
.
Poor
prattler
,
how
thou
talk’st
!
Enter
a
Messenger
.
Bless
you
,
fair
dame
.
I
am
not
to
you
known
,
Though
in
your
state
of
honor
I
am
perfect
.
I
doubt
some
danger
does
approach
you
nearly
.
If
you
will
take
a
homely
man’s
advice
,
Be
not
found
here
.
Hence
with
your
little
ones
!
To
fright
you
thus
methinks
I
am
too
savage
;
To
do
worse
to
you
were
fell
cruelty
,
Which
is
too
nigh
your
person
.
Heaven
preserve
you
!
I
dare
abide
no
longer
.
Messenger
exits
.
Whither
should
I
fly
?
I
have
done
no
harm
.
But
I
remember
now
I
am
in
this
earthly
world
,
where
to
do
harm
Is
often
laudable
,
to
do
good
sometime
Accounted
dangerous
folly
.
Why
then
,
alas
,
Do
I
put
up
that
womanly
defense
To
say
I
have
done
no
harm
?
Enter
Murderers
.
What
are
these
faces
?
Where
is
your
husband
?
ACT 4. SC. 3
I
hope
in
no
place
so
unsanctified
Where
such
as
thou
mayst
find
him
.
He’s
a
traitor
.
Thou
liest
,
thou
shag-eared
villain
!
What
,
you
egg
?
Stabbing
him
.
Young
fry
of
treachery
!
He
has
killed
me
,
mother
.
Run
away
,
I
pray
you
.
Lady
Macduff
exits
,
crying
Murder
!
followed
by
the
Murderers
bearing
the
Son’s
body
.
Scene
3
Enter
Malcolm
and
Macduff
.
Let
us
seek
out
some
desolate
shade
and
there
Weep
our
sad
bosoms
empty
.
Let
us
rather
Hold
fast
the
mortal
sword
and
,
like
good
men
,
Bestride
our
downfall’n
birthdom
.
Each
new
morn
New
widows
howl
,
new
orphans
cry
,
new
sorrows
Strike
heaven
on
the
face
,
that
it
resounds
As
if
it
felt
with
Scotland
,
and
yelled
out
Like
syllable
of
dolor
.
What
I
believe
,
I’ll
wail
;
What
know
,
believe
;
and
what
I
can
redress
,
As
I
shall
find
the
time
to
friend
,
I
will
.
What
you
have
spoke
,
it
may
be
so
,
perchance
.
This
tyrant
,
whose
sole
name
blisters
our
tongues
,
Was
once
thought
honest
.
You
have
loved
him
well
.
He
hath
not
touched
you
yet
.
I
am
young
,
but
something
ACT 4. SC. 3
You
may
deserve
of
him
through
me
,
and
wisdom
To
offer
up
a
weak
,
poor
,
innocent
lamb
T’
appease
an
angry
god
.
I
am
not
treacherous
.
But
Macbeth
is
.
A
good
and
virtuous
nature
may
recoil
In
an
imperial
charge
.
But
I
shall
crave
your
pardon
.
That
which
you
are
,
my
thoughts
cannot
transpose
.
Angels
are
bright
still
,
though
the
brightest
fell
.
Though
all
things
foul
would
wear
the
brows
of
grace
,
Yet
grace
must
still
look
so
.
I
have
lost
my
hopes
.
Perchance
even
there
where
I
did
find
my
doubts
.
Why
in
that
rawness
left
you
wife
and
child
,
Those
precious
motives
,
those
strong
knots
of
love
,
Without
leave-taking
?
I
pray
you
,
Let
not
my
jealousies
be
your
dishonors
,
But
mine
own
safeties
.
You
may
be
rightly
just
,
Whatever
I
shall
think
.
Bleed
,
bleed
,
poor
country
!
Great
tyranny
,
lay
thou
thy
basis
sure
,
For
goodness
dare
not
check
thee
.
Wear
thou
thy
wrongs
;
The
title
is
affeered
.
—
Fare
thee
well
,
lord
.
I
would
not
be
the
villain
that
thou
think’st
For
the
whole
space
that’s
in
the
tyrant’s
grasp
,
And
the
rich
East
to
boot
.
Be
not
offended
.
I
speak
not
as
in
absolute
fear
of
you
.
I
think
our
country
sinks
beneath
the
yoke
.
It
weeps
,
it
bleeds
,
and
each
new
day
a
gash
Is
added
to
her
wounds
.
I
think
withal
ACT 4. SC. 3
There
would
be
hands
uplifted
in
my
right
;
And
here
from
gracious
England
have
I
offer
Of
goodly
thousands
.
But
,
for
all
this
,
When
I
shall
tread
upon
the
tyrant’s
head
Or
wear
it
on
my
sword
,
yet
my
poor
country
Shall
have
more
vices
than
it
had
before
,
More
suffer
,
and
more
sundry
ways
than
ever
,
By
him
that
shall
succeed
.
What
should
he
be
?
It
is
myself
I
mean
,
in
whom
I
know
All
the
particulars
of
vice
so
grafted
That
,
when
they
shall
be
opened
,
black
Macbeth
Will
seem
as
pure
as
snow
,
and
the
poor
state
Esteem
him
as
a
lamb
,
being
compared
With
my
confineless
harms
.
Not
in
the
legions
Of
horrid
hell
can
come
a
devil
more
damned
In
evils
to
top
Macbeth
.
I
grant
him
bloody
,
Luxurious
,
avaricious
,
false
,
deceitful
,
Sudden
,
malicious
,
smacking
of
every
sin
That
has
a
name
.
But
there’s
no
bottom
,
none
,
In
my
voluptuousness
.
Your
wives
,
your
daughters
,
Your
matrons
,
and
your
maids
could
not
fill
up
The
cistern
of
my
lust
,
and
my
desire
All
continent
impediments
would
o’erbear
That
did
oppose
my
will
.
Better
Macbeth
Than
such
an
one
to
reign
.
Boundless
intemperance
In
nature
is
a
tyranny
.
It
hath
been
Th’
untimely
emptying
of
the
happy
throne
And
fall
of
many
kings
.
But
fear
not
yet
To
take
upon
you
what
is
yours
.
You
may
Convey
your
pleasures
in
a
spacious
plenty
And
yet
seem
cold
—
the
time
you
may
so
hoodwink
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
We
have
willing
dames
enough
.
There
cannot
be
That
vulture
in
you
to
devour
so
many
As
will
to
greatness
dedicate
themselves
,
Finding
it
so
inclined
.
With
this
there
grows
In
my
most
ill-composed
affection
such
A
stanchless
avarice
that
,
were
I
king
,
I
should
cut
off
the
nobles
for
their
lands
,
Desire
his
jewels
,
and
this
other’s
house
;
And
my
more-having
would
be
as
a
sauce
To
make
me
hunger
more
,
that
I
should
forge
Quarrels
unjust
against
the
good
and
loyal
,
Destroying
them
for
wealth
.
This
avarice
Sticks
deeper
,
grows
with
more
pernicious
root
Than
summer-seeming
lust
,
and
it
hath
been
The
sword
of
our
slain
kings
.
Yet
do
not
fear
.
Scotland
hath
foisons
to
fill
up
your
will
Of
your
mere
own
.
All
these
are
portable
,
With
other
graces
weighed
.
But
I
have
none
.
The
king-becoming
graces
,
As
justice
,
verity
,
temp’rance
,
stableness
,
Bounty
,
perseverance
,
mercy
,
lowliness
,
Devotion
,
patience
,
courage
,
fortitude
,
I
have
no
relish
of
them
but
abound
In
the
division
of
each
several
crime
,
Acting
it
many
ways
.
Nay
,
had
I
power
,
I
should
Pour
the
sweet
milk
of
concord
into
hell
,
Uproar
the
universal
peace
,
confound
All
unity
on
earth
.
O
Scotland
,
Scotland
!
If
such
a
one
be
fit
to
govern
,
speak
.
I
am
as
I
have
spoken
.
Fit
to
govern
?
ACT 4. SC. 3
No
,
not
to
live
.
—
O
nation
miserable
,
With
an
untitled
tyrant
bloody-sceptered
,
When
shalt
thou
see
thy
wholesome
days
again
,
Since
that
the
truest
issue
of
thy
throne
By
his
own
interdiction
stands
accursed
And
does
blaspheme
his
breed
?
—
Thy
royal
father
Was
a
most
sainted
king
.
The
queen
that
bore
thee
,
Oft’ner
upon
her
knees
than
on
her
feet
,
Died
every
day
she
lived
.
Fare
thee
well
.
These
evils
thou
repeat’st
upon
thyself
Hath
banished
me
from
Scotland
.
—
O
my
breast
,
Thy
hope
ends
here
!
Macduff
,
this
noble
passion
,
Child
of
integrity
,
hath
from
my
soul
Wiped
the
black
scruples
,
reconciled
my
thoughts
To
thy
good
truth
and
honor
.
Devilish
Macbeth
By
many
of
these
trains
hath
sought
to
win
me
Into
his
power
,
and
modest
wisdom
plucks
me
From
overcredulous
haste
.
But
God
above
Deal
between
thee
and
me
,
for
even
now
I
put
myself
to
thy
direction
and
Unspeak
mine
own
detraction
,
here
abjure
The
taints
and
blames
I
laid
upon
myself
For
strangers
to
my
nature
.
I
am
yet
Unknown
to
woman
,
never
was
forsworn
,
Scarcely
have
coveted
what
was
mine
own
,
At
no
time
broke
my
faith
,
would
not
betray
The
devil
to
his
fellow
,
and
delight
No
less
in
truth
than
life
.
My
first
false
speaking
Was
this
upon
myself
.
What
I
am
truly
Is
thine
and
my
poor
country’s
to
command
—
Whither
indeed
,
before
thy
here-approach
,
Old
Siward
with
ten
thousand
warlike
men
,
Already
at
a
point
,
was
setting
forth
.
Now
we’ll
together
,
and
the
chance
of
goodness
Be
like
our
warranted
quarrel
.
Why
are
you
silent
?
ACT 4. SC. 3
Such
welcome
and
unwelcome
things
at
once
’Tis
hard
to
reconcile
.
Enter
a
Doctor
.
Well
,
more
anon
.
—
Comes
the
King
forth
,
I
pray
you
?
Ay
,
sir
.
There
are
a
crew
of
wretched
souls
That
stay
his
cure
.
Their
malady
convinces
The
great
assay
of
art
,
but
at
his
touch
(
Such
sanctity
hath
heaven
given
his
hand
)
They
presently
amend
.
I
thank
you
,
doctor
.
Doctor
exits
.
What’s
the
disease
he
means
?
’Tis
called
the
evil
:
A
most
miraculous
work
in
this
good
king
,
Which
often
since
my
here-remain
in
England
I
have
seen
him
do
.
How
he
solicits
heaven
Himself
best
knows
,
but
strangely
visited
people
All
swoll’n
and
ulcerous
,
pitiful
to
the
eye
,
The
mere
despair
of
surgery
,
he
cures
,
Hanging
a
golden
stamp
about
their
necks
,
Put
on
with
holy
prayers
;
and
,
’tis
spoken
,
To
the
succeeding
royalty
he
leaves
The
healing
benediction
.
With
this
strange
virtue
,
He
hath
a
heavenly
gift
of
prophecy
,
And
sundry
blessings
hang
about
his
throne
That
speak
him
full
of
grace
.
Enter
Ross
.
See
who
comes
here
.
My
countryman
,
but
yet
I
know
him
not
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
My
ever-gentle
cousin
,
welcome
hither
.
I
know
him
now
.
—
Good
God
betimes
remove
The
means
that
makes
us
strangers
!
Sir
,
amen
.
Stands
Scotland
where
it
did
?
Alas
,
poor
country
,
Almost
afraid
to
know
itself
.
It
cannot
Be
called
our
mother
,
but
our
grave
,
where
nothing
But
who
knows
nothing
is
once
seen
to
smile
;
Where
sighs
and
groans
and
shrieks
that
rent
the
air
Are
made
,
not
marked
;
where
violent
sorrow
seems
A
modern
ecstasy
.
The
dead
man’s
knell
Is
there
scarce
asked
for
who
,
and
good
men’s
lives
Expire
before
the
flowers
in
their
caps
,
Dying
or
ere
they
sicken
.
O
relation
too
nice
and
yet
too
true
!
What’s
the
newest
grief
?
That
of
an
hour’s
age
doth
hiss
the
speaker
.
Each
minute
teems
a
new
one
.
How
does
my
wife
?
Why
,
well
.
And
all
my
children
?
Well
too
.
The
tyrant
has
not
battered
at
their
peace
?
No
,
they
were
well
at
peace
when
I
did
leave
’em
.
Be
not
a
niggard
of
your
speech
.
How
goes
’t
?
When
I
came
hither
to
transport
the
tidings
ACT 4. SC. 3
Which
I
have
heavily
borne
,
there
ran
a
rumor
Of
many
worthy
fellows
that
were
out
;
Which
was
to
my
belief
witnessed
the
rather
For
that
I
saw
the
tyrant’s
power
afoot
.
Now
is
the
time
of
help
.
Your
eye
in
Scotland
Would
create
soldiers
,
make
our
women
fight
To
doff
their
dire
distresses
.
Be
’t
their
comfort
We
are
coming
thither
.
Gracious
England
hath
Lent
us
good
Siward
and
ten
thousand
men
;
An
older
and
a
better
soldier
none
That
Christendom
gives
out
.
Would
I
could
answer
This
comfort
with
the
like
.
But
I
have
words
That
would
be
howled
out
in
the
desert
air
,
Where
hearing
should
not
latch
them
.
What
concern
they
—
The
general
cause
,
or
is
it
a
fee-grief
Due
to
some
single
breast
?
No
mind
that’s
honest
But
in
it
shares
some
woe
,
though
the
main
part
Pertains
to
you
alone
.
If
it
be
mine
,
Keep
it
not
from
me
.
Quickly
let
me
have
it
.
Let
not
your
ears
despise
my
tongue
forever
,
Which
shall
possess
them
with
the
heaviest
sound
That
ever
yet
they
heard
.
Hum
!
I
guess
at
it
.
Your
castle
is
surprised
,
your
wife
and
babes
Savagely
slaughtered
.
To
relate
the
manner
Were
on
the
quarry
of
these
murdered
deer
To
add
the
death
of
you
.
Merciful
heaven
!
—
ACT 4. SC. 3
What
,
man
,
ne’er
pull
your
hat
upon
your
brows
.
Give
sorrow
words
.
The
grief
that
does
not
speak
Whispers
the
o’erfraught
heart
and
bids
it
break
.
My
children
too
?
Wife
,
children
,
servants
,
all
that
could
be
found
.
And
I
must
be
from
thence
?
My
wife
killed
too
?
I
have
said
.
Be
comforted
.
Let’s
make
us
med’cines
of
our
great
revenge
To
cure
this
deadly
grief
.
He
has
no
children
.
All
my
pretty
ones
?
Did
you
say
all
?
O
hell-kite
!
All
?
What
,
all
my
pretty
chickens
and
their
dam
At
one
fell
swoop
?
Dispute
it
like
a
man
.
I
shall
do
so
,
But
I
must
also
feel
it
as
a
man
.
I
cannot
but
remember
such
things
were
That
were
most
precious
to
me
.
Did
heaven
look
on
And
would
not
take
their
part
?
Sinful
Macduff
,
They
were
all
struck
for
thee
!
Naught
that
I
am
,
Not
for
their
own
demerits
,
but
for
mine
,
Fell
slaughter
on
their
souls
.
Heaven
rest
them
now
.
Be
this
the
whetstone
of
your
sword
.
Let
grief
Convert
to
anger
.
Blunt
not
the
heart
;
enrage
it
.
O
,
I
could
play
the
woman
with
mine
eyes
And
braggart
with
my
tongue
!
But
,
gentle
heavens
,
Cut
short
all
intermission
!
Front
to
front
Bring
thou
this
fiend
of
Scotland
and
myself
.
Within
my
sword’s
length
set
him
.
If
he
’scape
,
Heaven
forgive
him
too
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
This
tune
goes
manly
.
Come
,
go
we
to
the
King
.
Our
power
is
ready
;
Our
lack
is
nothing
but
our
leave
.
Macbeth
Is
ripe
for
shaking
,
and
the
powers
above
Put
on
their
instruments
.
Receive
what
cheer
you
may
.
The
night
is
long
that
never
finds
the
day
.
They
exit
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
a
Doctor
of
Physic
and
a
Waiting-Gentlewoman
.
I
have
two
nights
watched
with
you
but
can
perceive
no
truth
in
your
report
.
When
was
it
she
last
walked
?
Since
his
Majesty
went
into
the
field
,
I
have
seen
her
rise
from
her
bed
,
throw
her
nightgown
upon
her
,
unlock
her
closet
,
take
forth
paper
,
fold
it
,
write
upon
’t
,
read
it
,
afterwards
seal
it
,
and
again
return
to
bed
;
yet
all
this
while
in
a
most
fast
sleep
.
A
great
perturbation
in
nature
,
to
receive
at
once
the
benefit
of
sleep
and
do
the
effects
of
watching
.
In
this
slumb’ry
agitation
,
besides
her
walking
and
other
actual
performances
,
what
at
any
time
have
you
heard
her
say
?
That
,
sir
,
which
I
will
not
report
after
her
.
You
may
to
me
,
and
’tis
most
meet
you
should
.
Neither
to
you
nor
anyone
,
having
no
witness
to
confirm
my
speech
.
Enter
Lady
Macbeth
with
a
taper
.
Lo
you
,
here
she
comes
.
This
is
her
very
guise
and
,
upon
my
life
,
fast
asleep
.
Observe
her
;
stand
close
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
How
came
she
by
that
light
?
Why
,
it
stood
by
her
.
She
has
light
by
her
continually
.
’Tis
her
command
.
You
see
her
eyes
are
open
.
Ay
,
but
their
sense
are
shut
.
What
is
it
she
does
now
?
Look
how
she
rubs
her
hands
.
It
is
an
accustomed
action
with
her
to
seem
thus
washing
her
hands
.
I
have
known
her
continue
in
this
a
quarter
of
an
hour
.
Yet
here’s
a
spot
.
Hark
,
she
speaks
.
I
will
set
down
what
comes
from
her
,
to
satisfy
my
remembrance
the
more
strongly
.
Out
,
damned
spot
,
out
,
I
say
!
One
.
Two
.
Why
then
,
’tis
time
to
do
’t
.
Hell
is
murky
.
Fie
,
my
lord
,
fie
,
a
soldier
and
afeard
?
What
need
we
fear
who
knows
it
,
when
none
can
call
our
power
to
account
?
Yet
who
would
have
thought
the
old
man
to
have
had
so
much
blood
in
him
?
Do
you
mark
that
?
The
Thane
of
Fife
had
a
wife
.
Where
is
she
now
?
What
,
will
these
hands
ne’er
be
clean
?
No
more
o’
that
,
my
lord
,
no
more
o’
that
.
You
mar
all
with
this
starting
.
Go
to
,
go
to
.
You
have
known
what
you
should
not
.
She
has
spoke
what
she
should
not
,
I
am
sure
of
that
.
Heaven
knows
what
she
has
known
.
Here’s
the
smell
of
the
blood
still
.
All
the
perfumes
of
Arabia
will
not
sweeten
this
little
hand
.
O
,
O
,
O
!
What
a
sigh
is
there
!
The
heart
is
sorely
charged
.
I
would
not
have
such
a
heart
in
my
bosom
for
the
dignity
of
the
whole
body
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Well
,
well
,
well
.
Pray
God
it
be
,
sir
.
This
disease
is
beyond
my
practice
.
Yet
I
have
known
those
which
have
walked
in
their
sleep
,
who
have
died
holily
in
their
beds
.
Wash
your
hands
.
Put
on
your
nightgown
.
Look
not
so
pale
.
I
tell
you
yet
again
,
Banquo’s
buried
;
he
cannot
come
out
on
’s
grave
.
Even
so
?
To
bed
,
to
bed
.
There’s
knocking
at
the
gate
.
Come
,
come
,
come
,
come
.
Give
me
your
hand
.
What’s
done
cannot
be
undone
.
To
bed
,
to
bed
,
to
bed
.
Lady
Macbeth
exits
.
Will
she
go
now
to
bed
?
Directly
.
Foul
whisp’rings
are
abroad
.
Unnatural
deeds
Do
breed
unnatural
troubles
.
Infected
minds
To
their
deaf
pillows
will
discharge
their
secrets
.
More
needs
she
the
divine
than
the
physician
.
God
,
God
forgive
us
all
.
Look
after
her
.
Remove
from
her
the
means
of
all
annoyance
And
still
keep
eyes
upon
her
.
So
,
good
night
.
My
mind
she
has
mated
,
and
amazed
my
sight
.
I
think
but
dare
not
speak
.
Good
night
,
good
doctor
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Drum
and
Colors
.
Enter
Menteith
,
Caithness
,
Angus
,
Lennox
,
and
Soldiers
.
The
English
power
is
near
,
led
on
by
Malcolm
,
His
uncle
Siward
,
and
the
good
Macduff
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Revenges
burn
in
them
,
for
their
dear
causes
Would
to
the
bleeding
and
the
grim
alarm
Excite
the
mortified
man
.
Near
Birnam
Wood
Shall
we
well
meet
them
.
That
way
are
they
coming
.
Who
knows
if
Donalbain
be
with
his
brother
?
For
certain
,
sir
,
he
is
not
.
I
have
a
file
Of
all
the
gentry
.
There
is
Siward’s
son
And
many
unrough
youths
that
even
now
Protest
their
first
of
manhood
.
What
does
the
tyrant
?
Great
Dunsinane
he
strongly
fortifies
.
Some
say
he’s
mad
;
others
that
lesser
hate
him
Do
call
it
valiant
fury
.
But
for
certain
He
cannot
buckle
his
distempered
cause
Within
the
belt
of
rule
.
Now
does
he
feel
His
secret
murders
sticking
on
his
hands
.
Now
minutely
revolts
upbraid
his
faith-breach
.
Those
he
commands
move
only
in
command
,
Nothing
in
love
.
Now
does
he
feel
his
title
Hang
loose
about
him
,
like
a
giant’s
robe
Upon
a
dwarfish
thief
.
Who
,
then
,
shall
blame
His
pestered
senses
to
recoil
and
start
When
all
that
is
within
him
does
condemn
Itself
for
being
there
?
Well
,
march
we
on
To
give
obedience
where
’tis
truly
owed
.
Meet
we
the
med’cine
of
the
sickly
weal
,
And
with
him
pour
we
in
our
country’s
purge
Each
drop
of
us
.
Or
so
much
as
it
needs
ACT 5. SC. 3
To
dew
the
sovereign
flower
and
drown
the
weeds
.
Make
we
our
march
towards
Birnam
.
They
exit
marching
.
Scene
3
Enter
Macbeth
,
the
Doctor
,
and
Attendants
.
Bring
me
no
more
reports
.
Let
them
fly
all
.
Till
Birnam
Wood
remove
to
Dunsinane
I
cannot
taint
with
fear
.
What’s
the
boy
Malcolm
?
Was
he
not
born
of
woman
?
The
spirits
that
know
All
mortal
consequences
have
pronounced
me
thus
:
Fear
not
,
Macbeth
.
No
man
that’s
born
of
woman
Shall
e’er
have
power
upon
thee
.
Then
fly
,
false
thanes
,
And
mingle
with
the
English
epicures
.
The
mind
I
sway
by
and
the
heart
I
bear
Shall
never
sag
with
doubt
nor
shake
with
fear
.
Enter
Servant
.
The
devil
damn
thee
black
,
thou
cream-faced
loon
!
Where
got’st
thou
that
goose-look
?
There
is
ten
thousand
—
Geese
,
villain
?
Soldiers
,
sir
.
Go
prick
thy
face
and
over-red
thy
fear
,
Thou
lily-livered
boy
.
What
soldiers
,
patch
?
Death
of
thy
soul
!
Those
linen
cheeks
of
thine
Are
counselors
to
fear
.
What
soldiers
,
whey-face
?
The
English
force
,
so
please
you
.
Take
thy
face
hence
.
Servant
exits
.
Seyton
!
—
I
am
sick
at
heart
When
I
behold
—
Seyton
,
I
say
!
—
This
push
ACT 5. SC. 3
Will
cheer
me
ever
or
disseat
me
now
.
I
have
lived
long
enough
.
My
way
of
life
Is
fall’n
into
the
sere
,
the
yellow
leaf
,
And
that
which
should
accompany
old
age
,
As
honor
,
love
,
obedience
,
troops
of
friends
,
I
must
not
look
to
have
,
but
in
their
stead
Curses
,
not
loud
but
deep
,
mouth-honor
,
breath
Which
the
poor
heart
would
fain
deny
and
dare
not
.
—
Seyton
!
Enter
Seyton
.
What’s
your
gracious
pleasure
?
What
news
more
?
All
is
confirmed
,
my
lord
,
which
was
reported
.
I’ll
fight
till
from
my
bones
my
flesh
be
hacked
.
Give
me
my
armor
.
’Tis
not
needed
yet
.
I’ll
put
it
on
.
Send
out
more
horses
.
Skirr
the
country
round
.
Hang
those
that
talk
of
fear
.
Give
me
mine
armor
.
—
How
does
your
patient
,
doctor
?
Not
so
sick
,
my
lord
,
As
she
is
troubled
with
thick-coming
fancies
That
keep
her
from
her
rest
.
Cure
her
of
that
.
Canst
thou
not
minister
to
a
mind
diseased
,
Pluck
from
the
memory
a
rooted
sorrow
,
Raze
out
the
written
troubles
of
the
brain
,
And
with
some
sweet
oblivious
antidote
Cleanse
the
stuffed
bosom
of
that
perilous
stuff
Which
weighs
upon
the
heart
?
ACT 5. SC. 4
Therein
the
patient
Must
minister
to
himself
.
Throw
physic
to
the
dogs
.
I’ll
none
of
it
.
—
Come
,
put
mine
armor
on
.
Give
me
my
staff
.
Attendants
begin
to
arm
him
.
Seyton
,
send
out
.
—
Doctor
,
the
thanes
fly
from
me
.
—
Come
,
sir
,
dispatch
.
—
If
thou
couldst
,
doctor
,
cast
The
water
of
my
land
,
find
her
disease
,
And
purge
it
to
a
sound
and
pristine
health
,
I
would
applaud
thee
to
the
very
echo
That
should
applaud
again
.
—
Pull
’t
off
,
I
say
.
—
What
rhubarb
,
senna
,
or
what
purgative
drug
Would
scour
these
English
hence
?
Hear’st
thou
of
them
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
.
Your
royal
preparation
Makes
us
hear
something
.
Bring
it
after
me
.
—
I
will
not
be
afraid
of
death
and
bane
Till
Birnam
Forest
come
to
Dunsinane
.
,
aside
Were
I
from
Dunsinane
away
and
clear
,
Profit
again
should
hardly
draw
me
here
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Drum
and
Colors
.
Enter
Malcolm
,
Siward
,
Macduff
,
Siward’s
son
,
Menteith
,
Caithness
,
Angus
,
and
Soldiers
,
marching
.
Cousins
,
I
hope
the
days
are
near
at
hand
That
chambers
will
be
safe
.
ACT 5. SC. 4
We
doubt
it
nothing
.
What
wood
is
this
before
us
?
The
Wood
wood
of
Birnam
.
Let
every
soldier
hew
him
down
a
bough
And
bear
’t
before
him
.
Thereby
shall
we
shadow
The
numbers
of
our
host
and
make
discovery
Err
in
report
of
us
.
It
shall
be
done
.
We
learn
no
other
but
the
confident
tyrant
Keeps
still
in
Dunsinane
and
will
endure
Our
setting
down
before
’t
.
’Tis
his
main
hope
;
For
,
where
there
is
advantage
to
be
given
,
Both
more
and
less
have
given
him
the
revolt
,
And
none
serve
with
him
but
constrainèd
things
Whose
hearts
are
absent
too
.
Let
our
just
censures
Attend
the
true
event
,
and
put
we
on
Industrious
soldiership
.
The
time
approaches
That
will
with
due
decision
make
us
know
What
we
shall
say
we
have
and
what
we
owe
.
Thoughts
speculative
their
unsure
hopes
relate
,
But
certain
issue
strokes
must
arbitrate
;
Towards
which
,
advance
the
war
.
They
exit
marching
.
ACT 5. SC. 5
Scene
5
Enter
Macbeth
,
Seyton
,
and
Soldiers
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
.
Hang
out
our
banners
on
the
outward
walls
.
The
cry
is
still
They
come
!
Our
castle’s
strength
Will
laugh
a
siege
to
scorn
.
Here
let
them
lie
Till
famine
and
the
ague
eat
them
up
.
Were
they
not
forced
with
those
that
should
be
ours
,
We
might
have
met
them
dareful
,
beard
to
beard
,
And
beat
them
backward
home
.
A
cry
within
of
women
.
What
is
that
noise
?
It
is
the
cry
of
women
,
my
good
lord
.
He
exits
.
I
have
almost
forgot
the
taste
of
fears
.
The
time
has
been
my
senses
would
have
cooled
To
hear
a
night-shriek
,
and
my
fell
of
hair
Would
at
a
dismal
treatise
rouse
and
stir
As
life
were
in
’t
.
I
have
supped
full
with
horrors
.
Direness
,
familiar
to
my
slaughterous
thoughts
,
Cannot
once
start
me
.
Enter
Seyton
.
Wherefore
was
that
cry
?
The
Queen
,
my
lord
,
is
dead
.
She
should
have
died
hereafter
.
There
would
have
been
a
time
for
such
a
word
.
Tomorrow
and
tomorrow
and
tomorrow
Creeps
in
this
petty
pace
from
day
to
day
To
the
last
syllable
of
recorded
time
,
And
all
our
yesterdays
have
lighted
fools
The
way
to
dusty
death
.
Out
,
out
,
brief
candle
!
ACT 5. SC. 5
Life’s
but
a
walking
shadow
,
a
poor
player
That
struts
and
frets
his
hour
upon
the
stage
And
then
is
heard
no
more
.
It
is
a
tale
Told
by
an
idiot
,
full
of
sound
and
fury
,
Signifying
nothing
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
Thou
com’st
to
use
thy
tongue
:
thy
story
quickly
.
Gracious
my
lord
,
I
should
report
that
which
I
say
I
saw
,
But
know
not
how
to
do
’t
.
Well
,
say
,
sir
.
As
I
did
stand
my
watch
upon
the
hill
,
I
looked
toward
Birnam
,
and
anon
methought
The
Wood
wood
began
to
move
.
Liar
and
slave
!
Let
me
endure
your
wrath
,
if
’t
be
not
so
.
Within
this
three
mile
may
you
see
it
coming
.
I
say
,
a
moving
grove
.
If
thou
speak’st
false
,
Upon
the
next
tree
shall
thou
hang
alive
Till
famine
cling
thee
.
If
thy
speech
be
sooth
,
I
care
not
if
thou
dost
for
me
as
much
.
—
I
pull
in
resolution
and
begin
To
doubt
th’
equivocation
of
the
fiend
,
That
lies
like
truth
.
Fear
not
till
Birnam
Wood
Do
come
to
Dunsinane
,
and
now
a
wood
Comes
toward
Dunsinane
.
—
Arm
,
arm
,
and
out
!
—
If
this
which
he
avouches
does
appear
,
There
is
nor
flying
hence
nor
tarrying
here
.
I
’gin
to
be
aweary
of
the
sun
And
wish
th’
estate
o’
th’
world
were
now
undone
.
—
ACT 5. SC. 6/7
Ring
the
alarum
bell
!
—
Blow
wind
,
come
wrack
,
At
least
we’ll
die
with
harness
on
our
back
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Drum
and
Colors
.
Enter
Malcolm
,
Siward
,
Macduff
,
and
their
army
,
with
boughs
.
Now
near
enough
.
Your
leafy
screens
throw
down
And
show
like
those
you
are
.
—
You
,
worthy
uncle
,
Shall
with
my
cousin
,
your
right
noble
son
,
Lead
our
first
battle
.
Worthy
Macduff
and
we
Shall
take
upon
’s
what
else
remains
to
do
,
According
to
our
order
.
Fare
you
well
.
Do
we
but
find
the
tyrant’s
power
tonight
,
Let
us
be
beaten
if
we
cannot
fight
.
Make
all
our
trumpets
speak
;
give
them
all
breath
,
Those
clamorous
harbingers
of
blood
and
death
.
They
exit
.
Alarums
continued
.
Scene
7
Enter
Macbeth
.
They
have
tied
me
to
a
stake
.
I
cannot
fly
,
But
,
bear-like
,
I
must
fight
the
course
.
What’s
he
That
was
not
born
of
woman
?
Such
a
one
Am
I
to
fear
,
or
none
.
Enter
young
Siward
.
What
is
thy
name
?
ACT 5. SC. 7
Thou
’lt
be
afraid
to
hear
it
.
No
,
though
thou
call’st
thyself
a
hotter
name
Than
any
is
in
hell
.
My
name’s
Macbeth
.
The
devil
himself
could
not
pronounce
a
title
More
hateful
to
mine
ear
.
No
,
nor
more
fearful
.
Thou
liest
,
abhorrèd
tyrant
.
With
my
sword
I’ll
prove
the
lie
thou
speak’st
.
They
fight
,
and
young
Siward
is
slain
.
Thou
wast
born
of
woman
.
But
swords
I
smile
at
,
weapons
laugh
to
scorn
,
Brandished
by
man
that’s
of
a
woman
born
.
He
exits
.
Alarums
.
Enter
Macduff
.
That
way
the
noise
is
.
Tyrant
,
show
thy
face
!
If
thou
beest
slain
,
and
with
no
stroke
of
mine
,
My
wife
and
children’s
ghosts
will
haunt
me
still
.
I
cannot
strike
at
wretched
kerns
,
whose
arms
Are
hired
to
bear
their
staves
.
Either
thou
,
Macbeth
,
Or
else
my
sword
with
an
unbattered
edge
I
sheathe
again
undeeded
.
There
thou
shouldst
be
;
By
this
great
clatter
,
one
of
greatest
note
Seems
bruited
.
Let
me
find
him
,
Fortune
,
And
more
I
beg
not
.
He
exits
.
Alarums
.
Enter
Malcolm
and
Siward
.
This
way
,
my
lord
.
The
castle’s
gently
rendered
.
The
tyrant’s
people
on
both
sides
do
fight
,
ACT 5. SC. 8
The
noble
thanes
do
bravely
in
the
war
,
The
day
almost
itself
professes
yours
,
And
little
is
to
do
.
We
have
met
with
foes
That
strike
beside
us
.
Enter
,
sir
,
the
castle
.
They
exit
.
Alarum
.
Scene
8
Enter
Macbeth
.
Why
should
I
play
the
Roman
fool
and
die
On
mine
own
sword
?
Whiles
I
see
lives
,
the
gashes
Do
better
upon
them
.
Enter
Macduff
.
Turn
,
hellhound
,
turn
!
Of
all
men
else
I
have
avoided
thee
.
But
get
thee
back
.
My
soul
is
too
much
charged
With
blood
of
thine
already
.
I
have
no
words
;
My
voice
is
in
my
sword
,
thou
bloodier
villain
Than
terms
can
give
thee
out
.
Fight
.
Alarum
.
Thou
losest
labor
.
As
easy
mayst
thou
the
intrenchant
air
With
thy
keen
sword
impress
as
make
me
bleed
.
Let
fall
thy
blade
on
vulnerable
crests
;
I
bear
a
charmèd
life
,
which
must
not
yield
To
one
of
woman
born
.
Despair
thy
charm
,
And
let
the
angel
whom
thou
still
hast
served
Tell
thee
Macduff
was
from
his
mother’s
womb
Untimely
ripped
.
ACT 5. SC. 8
Accursèd
be
that
tongue
that
tells
me
so
,
For
it
hath
cowed
my
better
part
of
man
!
And
be
these
juggling
fiends
no
more
believed
That
palter
with
us
in
a
double
sense
,
That
keep
the
word
of
promise
to
our
ear
And
break
it
to
our
hope
.
I’ll
not
fight
with
thee
.
Then
yield
thee
,
coward
,
And
live
to
be
the
show
and
gaze
o’
th’
time
.
We’ll
have
thee
,
as
our
rarer
monsters
are
,
Painted
upon
a
pole
,
and
underwrit
Here
may
you
see
the
tyrant
.
I
will
not
yield
To
kiss
the
ground
before
young
Malcolm’s
feet
And
to
be
baited
with
the
rabble’s
curse
.
Though
Birnam
Wood
be
come
to
Dunsinane
And
thou
opposed
,
being
of
no
woman
born
,
Yet
I
will
try
the
last
.
Before
my
body
I
throw
my
warlike
shield
.
Lay
on
,
Macduff
,
And
damned
be
him
that
first
cries
Hold
!
Enough
!
They
exit
fighting
.
Alarums
.
They
enter
fighting
,
and
Macbeth
is
slain
.
Macduff
exits
carrying
off
Macbeth’s
body
.
Retreat
and
flourish
.
Enter
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
,
Malcolm
,
Siward
,
Ross
,
Thanes
,
and
Soldiers
.
I
would
the
friends
we
miss
were
safe
arrived
.
Some
must
go
off
;
and
yet
by
these
I
see
So
great
a
day
as
this
is
cheaply
bought
.
Macduff
is
missing
,
and
your
noble
son
.
Your
son
,
my
lord
,
has
paid
a
soldier’s
debt
.
He
only
lived
but
till
he
was
a
man
,
ACT 5. SC. 8
The
which
no
sooner
had
his
prowess
confirmed
In
the
unshrinking
station
where
he
fought
,
But
like
a
man
he
died
.
Then
he
is
dead
?
Ay
,
and
brought
off
the
field
.
Your
cause
of
sorrow
Must
not
be
measured
by
his
worth
,
for
then
It
hath
no
end
.
Had
he
his
hurts
before
?
Ay
,
on
the
front
.
Why
then
,
God’s
soldier
be
he
!
Had
I
as
many
sons
as
I
have
hairs
,
I
would
not
wish
them
to
a
fairer
death
;
And
so
his
knell
is
knolled
.
He’s
worth
more
sorrow
,
and
that
I’ll
spend
for
him
.
He’s
worth
no
more
.
They
say
he
parted
well
and
paid
his
score
,
And
so
,
God
be
with
him
.
Here
comes
newer
comfort
.
Enter
Macduff
with
Macbeth’s
head
.
Hail
,
King
!
for
so
thou
art
.
Behold
where
stands
Th’
usurper’s
cursèd
head
.
The
time
is
free
.
I
see
thee
compassed
with
thy
kingdom’s
pearl
,
That
speak
my
salutation
in
their
minds
,
Whose
voices
I
desire
aloud
with
mine
.
Hail
,
King
of
Scotland
!
Hail
,
King
of
Scotland
!
Flourish
.
We
shall
not
spend
a
large
expense
of
time
Before
we
reckon
with
your
several
loves
And
make
us
even
with
you
.
My
thanes
and
kinsmen
,
ACT 5. SC. 8
Henceforth
be
earls
,
the
first
that
ever
Scotland
In
such
an
honor
named
.
What’s
more
to
do
,
Which
would
be
planted
newly
with
the
time
,
As
calling
home
our
exiled
friends
abroad
That
fled
the
snares
of
watchful
tyranny
,
Producing
forth
the
cruel
ministers
Of
this
dead
butcher
and
his
fiend-like
queen
(
Who
,
as
’tis
thought
,
by
self
and
violent
hands
,
Took
off
her
life
)
—
this
,
and
what
needful
else
That
calls
upon
us
,
by
the
grace
of
grace
,
We
will
perform
in
measure
,
time
,
and
place
.
So
thanks
to
all
at
once
and
to
each
one
,
Whom
we
invite
to
see
us
crowned
at
Scone
.
Flourish
.
All
exit
.
all or part of a full metrical line
all or part of a prose speech
a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified as verse or prose
editorial emendation